“Sure.” I’m off the bed and dragging on my jeans and T-shirt, shoving into my shoes, and following her into the open living room and kitchen area.
She heads to the back door, opens it, and leans out into the dark yard. I’m right behind her, staring out as she switches on the light.
The tree is empty. No fucking Louis. The rope is on the ground, frayed where it’s been worked against the bark.
“Shit, he’s not there,” she says weakly.
“Maybe Corey and Brody took him,” I blurt out. I’m already grabbing my phone. No response from either of them to my message. I dial Corey. It rings through to voicemail. Same with Brody. What the fuck!
“Come on.” I lock the door, and we both move deeper into the living room. “We’re going to my place to see what we’re dealing with.” I pray those two collected Louis and he didn’t get away.
Once she heads down the hallway, I hastily grab the knife and locking kit from under the cushion of her couch, stuff them into the back of my jeans, and cover them. She doesn’t need to see them.
We’re out the front door, me scouring the road and homes, without anyone in sight. We cross the yards in the night, my hand tight around hers, my gaze scanning every shadow, hedge, and space between the houses. Her grip is crushing my fingers, and I let her because right now the pain is grounding.
Inside our place, it’s dark and silent. I push open Corey’s door. He’s fast asleep on his stomach, half covered by a sheet, with Damien curled up against his side, while his phone is face down on the bedside table. In Brody’s room, it’s the same damn story. They never got my message. Fuck!
Claire and I are now in the living room, and I switch on the lights.
“Louis got away,” Claire says, hugging herself. “What if he’s out there, watching everything I do. God, how are things getting worse and worse for me with him? He’s doing anything to ruin me, and he’s the one who left me.” She’s rubbing her eyes under her glasses.
I’m at her side in a split second and take her face in my hands. “He’s not getting near you again because I’m going to track him down. You’ve got three of us on your side now.”
She nods, yet her attention is miles away—in a dark place, by the look of her grim expression—and it destroys me to see her this way.
“We’ll deal with this. Police, restraining order, whatever it takes,” I explain. “We’re not leaving your side.”
She’s shaking, eyes glassy. “But protection can’t be around me twenty-four seven, so what happens when he finally corners me alone?”
16
CLAIRE
I’m standing in the Alphas’ living room, arms wrapped around myself, shaking, while Jakob is waking Corey and Brody. The lights are on. Bright, harsh, too much for three a.m. Damien pads in from the hallway, one ear flat, fur creased on his side, and trills at me with the indignant confusion of a cat whose household has gone insane at an unreasonable hour.
I scoop him up, and he melts into my arms instantly, his massive head burrowing into my neck, and a purr starts in his chest that travels through my rib cage and settles my pulse by a fraction.
“You’re the only one not trying to kill me tonight,” I whisper into his fur teasingly.
He chirps, so I hold him tighter. He smells of clean fur and powder. I love the smell of cats.
Footsteps down the hallway, then Corey appears first, filling the living room doorway, wearing gray sweatpants and nothing else. Bare chest, bare feet, his dark hair messy from sleep, and the muscles across his stomach and shoulders are on full display in the overhead light. My heart is drumming against my rib cage, my gaze having a field day with taking in all of him, especially how little those pants are concealing. His mocha-brown eyessharpen in my direction, then soften when he scans me clutching Damien in the middle of his living room.
Brody is behind him. Black sweatpants, a crinkled white T-shirt, pulled on inside out, the tag visible at his collar. I can’t help but smirk. He shoves his hair off his face, but it keeps falling forward.
Jakob follows them. He must have given them the short version because their expressions tell me they already know something. Corey’s jaw is tight, his fingers cracking against his palm. Brody remains still, the performance mask gone.
“Your shirt’s inside out and backwards,” Jakob states, slapping a hand to Brody’s shoulder as he passes them, approaching me.
Brody glances down as if he’s only just remembered he’s wearing a shirt, then drags it over his head with a sleepy, irritated grunt. For one reckless second, all I see is bare chest, hard muscle, the sharp V at his hips, and sweatpants hanging so dangerously low that they reveal a tempting patch of dark hair disappearing under the waistband.
Then he tugs the shirt back on the right way, and I force my eyes up like I haven’t just gawked at every inch of him.
Brody’s gaze cuts to me, the last of the sleep vanishing from his face. “Hey, gorgeous.” His voice is rough as he comes in closer and hugs me and Damien at once. It’s so intimate, his body still warm from sleep. “Jakob gave us the short version. Are you okay?”
The question nearly undoes me, and we break apart just as Damien leaps from my arms to the end table beside me. “Yeah, thank God he was there.”
Corey’s already crossing the room, dragging me into a bear hug too. I’m swallowed by how huge he is, and I melt against him. “So sorry that happened. That little fuckwit is going to besorry when we get hold of him, but for now, as long as you’re okay…”
