Page 6 of Bound to the EMT

“We don’t know yet,” an officer barks out, stress wafting from him until the stench is nearly nauseating. “Can’t get this damned gate to open, and if there’s anyone inside, they’re not opening it for us.”

My brows furrow as I glance up at the mansion. From an upper window, I see a flash of movement and long brown hair streaking just out of sight. “There. Up there. Someone is definitely inside.”

Walking over to the keypad at the gate, I bring my communicator close by and punch in a few codes. Just as I thought. An older model. I reach around the back and feel for a set of wires and tug until they come loose. After I wait ten seconds, I shove it back in and turn to the massive hunk of iron and patina. Like candy from a baby.

The groan it gives as it finally heaves open can rival any horror movie, but at least we’re in. Hanging back, I let the police go first so they can secure the area. My hair stands on end as my gaze flicks about, looking for whatever threat, seen or unseen, might have caused someone in this house to call emergency services, but so far, I see nothing.

Honestly, the only thing really out of place is how eerily quiet it is. Where are the servants? A place this massive has to have an equally impressive staff. That is, unless they’re all slaughtered, and the brown-haired girl is the only survivor.

But that’s ridiculous. Just the machinations of a caffeine-fueled brain and not as much sleep as I would like. This should teach me to offer to come in on an off day after a horror movie bender.

Shaking my head, I make the trek up the manicured lawn and stones, chuckling under my breath. Maybe a torture porn marathon wasn’t the smartest way to spend my off days? Still though, something isn’t right, but I just can’t put my finger on it, and my gut is usually spot on.

Soon, the police file out, their lips set in a thin line, but so far, no one is calling for heavier artillery. “Ace, you’re up.”

“What about the killer?”

“No killer. Not one that we can find. I’m very close to thinking this is a prank, but the girl is in hysterics. See if you can calm her down so we can figure out what’s going on.”

So it’s going to be one of those days. Got it. Poor little rich girl finally at the end of her rope.

Reaching into my bag, I pull out a syringe and prime it before placing the cap back on and slipping it into my pocket. The officers and fire personnel part, giving me clear access inside.

At first, however, I don’t see the girl. Hell, I don’t see anyone. Again, that thought nags the back of my brain. Where in the hell are all the staff?

The enormous foyer is cavernous, nearly swallowing me whole. There’s money and then there’s money, money. Though I’ve never been in the same room as an Astencourt before, it’s clear from just this little bit I’m seeing, they definitely have money, money.

Soft sniffles catch my attention, pulling my gaze over toward the stairs. The stench of fear washes over me, making my stomach churn.

“I’m coming upstairs,” I boom out as loud as I can, so I don’t startle the girl by just appearing up there.

“Please,” the small, feminine voice cries out, her words nearly dripping with hysteria, “I need them gone.” Not at all my intended effect.

“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” Taking a deep breath, I soften my tone a bit. “Not until I know what’s wrong with you.”

“I- It’s- I- Nothing. Okay. It’s nothing. It was an accidental call.”

Padding my way down the hall, I follow the voice. “I need to see for myself so I can give them the all clear. Can you do that for me? Can you let me see you?”

A door opens, revealing a disheveled omega, her green eyes nearly glowing with how fiercely she’s crying. “Please,” she sobs. “I’m fine. Well... sort of. But I won’t be if you don’t get them off the lawn.”

“Look, I think your yard will survive some tire marks. Don’t you have a landscaper to make it all better?”

“You’ve got jokes,” she spits out before sliding back into her room to pace.

“What I have is a sense of humor, and it’s starting to wear thin. I don’t want to incapacitate you, but you’re leaving me little choice.”

“If I promise to tell you what’s wrong, can you please get them out of here? I just need one person. One person. That’s it. That’s all. What’s wrong with me doesn’t need police. Do you see or smell smoke? No. The fire department doesn’t need to be here either.”

“What’s the harm in having them here?” I lower my tone, doing my absolute best to be a calm, soothing presence for this distraught omega.

“What harm? What harm? Do you know who the fudge I am?”

A bark of laughter catches in my throat at her whispered non-expletive. “Why don’t you tell me? And while you’re at it, tell me how old you are.”

“I’m Emmeline Astencourt. Nineteen.”

“Tell me, Emmeline Astencourt, nineteen, what’s the harm? All these people are here to make sure you’re okay.”