I burst into the meeting room. The back wall is lit up with the number of screens stretched across the desk, the rest of the room dipped in darkness as Regina’s fingers slam viciously off the keyboard.
“Tell me fucking something, Gina.”
The hours it took us to get back to the Pit from outside Harriston were excruciating. Where you’d normally need a rest over, we ploughed straight through the highways and every single road, only stopping enough for gas and me throwing way more cash at the cashier than was necessary.
There wasn’t a single fucking minute I allowed to be wasted.
All our cell phones died, and when I say that those last six hours having not a single bit of communication with the outside world…
I’ve never wanted to tear it apart so violently in my fucking life.
When Regina’s sunken and red-rimmed eyes meet mine, a shudder runs through my body. “I’ve downloaded the GPS, but the tracker’s now dead.”
My hands run through my hair, tugging the strands as I walk away from her.
I can’t pummel my fists through those screens.
We don’t need any more problems.
Footsteps slam beside me as Dawson, Rex and my dad rush into the meeting room. My interlinked hands cup against my nape as I stare at the shutters on the window.
What the fuck have they done to her?
Is she even fucking alive?
No, I know she is. If she wasn’t, the tie my soul has to hers would make itself known.
I wouldn’t even be standing here.
My fist goes to meet the metal, when another wraps itself around my wrist, yanking me to face them before I can break a bone. “Keep it contained, Saint. I need to get Grace looked over; I can’t fucking babysit your temper at the same time,” Dad growls at me.
I yank my hand from his, shaking off the adrenaline that’s pumping through my body, letting sparks fire off my skin.
I’m going to fucking kill somebody if they get too close to me.
I nod at him, and he gives me a wary glance before running out of the room.
“Saint, look at this.”
Forcing myself to drag in a breath, I make my way over to everyone huddled round Regina’s screen. “What is it?” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine. It’s gritty, coated in the charcoal from my fury that’s dying to be unleashed.
I’m a walking time bomb.
Not even I’ll be able to assist in defusing me.
“Look at the line,” Rex says, his finger dragging across the broken white markers.
The screen shows the map of Kingstone. The tracker’s GPS has been marked from Indie’s mom’s house and follows the roads, making its way to Conrad’s house in the city.
My teeth grind, but Regina reads my mind.
“She spent twenty minutes in the city home before leaving,” she says quietly against her fist, opening another tab that has a breakdown of times and how long was spent when the tracker was stationary.
“How accurate is that tracker?” Dawson asks her.
She shakes her head. “99% accurate, I tested it a number of times before Indie even used it in the cabin. It’s so damn precise that I could tell when she even moved an inch in the woods going by the coordinates.”
“Could it have malfunctioned?” Rex adds, his eyes as narrowed as mine as we stare at the straight line running from Harriston right to the coast.
