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“Are you feeling better now?” he asks, placing his hands on my shoulders to make sure I won’t fall.
“Never do that to me again,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“What part?” He raises an eyebrow. “Holding you over the edge of a skyscraper or the multiple orgasms?”
I narrow my eyes.
“I told you I knew what you needed,” he says in his usual smug tone. “Look, we don’t know what’s coming next, Ivy.” He rarely uses my name, so my ears prick up. “But whatever happens, you have the Dukes and a second chance. Don’t blow it because you’re stuck in the past and holding a grudge. Take it from someone who made the same mistakes. You need to fight for your family. I wish I had…”
He looks into the distance, his head and thoughts lost to another place. A time filled with regrets.
He’s right, though.
Daisy needs me. I have to get a grip because we’re about to face the biggest fight of our lives. I can put my feelings for the Dukes aside for now. Killing Alaric is all that matters. We’re fighting for my sister’s freedom.
I clear my throat and say, “We should probably head back to the suite…”
“Seb’s probably sent out a search party by now,” Callen says as he turns to leave.
I grab his wrist. “Wait.”
“What?”
A blush creeps up my neck as I whisper, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 22
SEB
Iprowl back and forth, throwing up her mattress in a fit of anger.
“Where is she?” I roar.
Bram, equally furious, tears through her room like a hurricane. He throws open drawers and cupboards, hurling their contents over the floor.
Freddie peers out of her bedroom window. “She must have left this way.” He points at a staircase I hadn’t noticed before. “But there’s no sign of her. She must have left a while ago.”
Why did I insist on giving her privacy? I should have stationed one of us with her at all times!
I kick the nearest object within range—a wardrobe—and my foot goes straight through the old wood. “Fuck!”
“Have we been robbed?” Callen calls from the living room.
Where was he when we needed him?
“Ivy’s gone!” I yell.
“Actually, I’m right here.”
I spin to find her leaning in the doorway, arching an eyebrow in amusement. My shoulders sag in relief. She’s soaked—her clothes sticking to her curves, her wet hair curling at the edges, and mascara smudged down her face.
Callen looms behind her like an ominous shadow. He’s equally wet and, judging by his torn t-shirt, it looks like he’s been in a street fight with Scottish wildcats.
“What did you do to her?” I hiss.
Callen holds up his hands to protest his innocence. “Is this the repayment I get for bringing your girl back?” He shakes his head. “I’m taking a shower.”
I ignore him.
