Page 102 of The Rogues

“Anything,” Cyrus affirms as he pulls his phone out. “As long as you’re happy, nothing else matters.”

THIRTY-THREE

I tap my knuckles on the door to Flo’s hotel room, anxiousness running rampant in my stomach. On one hand, I know my sister and I know she will do whatever she can to make the best of the situation. On the other, I don’t know how she feels about staying with random people. Sure, the girls of Vicious Velvet aren’t technically strangers—I even caught her texting Nicola the other day—but that doesn’t mean she’s going to want to share a small space with them. And the idea of her being with the female roadies is tough to gauge as well.

No matter how I spin it, it makes me feel guilty. Like I’m tossing her aside to deal with the aftermath of my issues once again.

After a few moments, I knock on the door again, this time more firmly. “Flo, answer the door! We have things to talk about.”

But when the door opens, it’s not Flo who greets me. It’s an older woman, her dyed blonde hair pulled back and her hands tightening the lapel of her robe. The hotel logo is displayed on the front and I frown.

“Hello?” she asks, her Canadian drawl strong.

“Hi,” I say, confusion taking over. “Who are you?”

“Who wants to know?” she asks, her eyes narrowed. As she gets a good look at me, her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re Cyrus Darlington.”

My brow notches. “Do you listen to rock music?”

“Just since the 80’s, young man. You’re not the first rock star to exist.” She laughs. “Or the cutest.”

I feign a derisive scoff. “And who would be the cutest?”

“Nikki Sixx, of course.”

“Ah, but he’s American, ain’t he?”

“And I’m Canadian, who fucking cares?”

I find myself laughing with her, but then the reason why I’m here comes running back to the forefront.

“Anyway, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for the person who was staying in this room before you. She’s supposed to still be here, so I’m just confused why it’s occupied by someone else.”

She pauses. “Oh, I’m not sure, love. I checked in around midnight.”

My heart sinks. Midnight? She could be anywhere now.

“Thanks anyway. I gotta go on a manhunt now,” I say, turning to leave. Before I can go, she calls out to me.

“I hope you find her, rock star.”

I breathe out heavily. God, me too.

Her phone goes to voicemail for thirty minutes straight. Jamie and Lennon are all calling local hospitals and anywhere else we can get free information to figure out what happened. And despite our locations being shared, it’s useless as long as her phone is off.

“Maybe she went shopping and her phone died,” Jamie suggests optimistically.

“After checking out of her hotel almost twenty hours ago?” Lennon counters as he looks through his own phone. “God, she’s always been the best of us at hide and seek. This is fucking agony.”

That shoots me back to our childhood. Florence loved hide and seek. It was always the game she suggested we play, and with the massive estate she and I lived in, the options were limitless. Still, after a while, you learned which spots people favored and which spots were avoided, but Flo was a daredevil. She always found new places to hide. Most of the time, she won because we’d be forced to give up by the time night came around. She was sneaky and adaptable, and I always admired that about her.

But right now, I don’t want to play this game anymore. My heart is beating out of my chest, the anxiety eating me from the inside out. My alpha whimpers just as Josie walks back in from the bathroom, her hair wet from the shower.

“She still hasn’t called?”

I shake my head, my eyes watching the screen like a hawk. My omega walks over and sits beside me, her presence a lulling calm as she takes my hand and squeezes.

“Just give it some time. I know she’s going to call.”