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His phone rings, the abrupt sound blaring in the space. I use his distraction to try to breathe through the nausea, praying and pushing the bile burning up my throat back down.

I’ve no idea what he’ll do if I’m sick everywhere, and that thought terrifies my body enough to listen.

“Vermis,” he announces, tucking the phone to his cheek as he types something on the laptop. His brows draw in at whatever Vermis says, and a muscle tics in his jaw. “That doesn’t sound like an issue that concerns me. What concerns me is that you removed the device, and that you’ll be here at the agreed time with the vehicle for me.”

My stomach cramps at the idea of moving locations because, undoubtedly, it will be farther away than where we are now.

“Good. Be sure you’re on time,” he quips, then ends the call and turns his gaze on me.

SIXTY-FOUR

NATE

There’s so much fucking panic inside me, it’s turned into a constant roaring in my ears.

Manners and nicety bullshit have always been low on my list of things to care about; now it’s been completely wiped from my system.

All I fucking care about is getting my girl back.

“This isn’t actively doing anything!” I yell at Logan, pacing back and forth in the corridor since they’ve blocked off access to her flat.

I guess they’re looking for clues or some shit. It’s pointless. We know she’s gone; we know who’s taken her. Searching in an empty place makes no fucking sense to me.

We need to be out there.

“There is a procedure, Nate.” The detective sighs. “The team is in there looking for any evidence they can. I’ve got Felix looking at any nearby footage.”

I stomp away, not bothering to respond. None of that I can help with, and I feel real fucking useless.

“Noah, you go talk to him,” I grunt on entering our flat, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. I walk past him and into my bedroom.

The little beast is huddled within his cave-like bed, something Rosy said they do for comfort. With all the noise and panic in the air, I’m not fucking surprised.

My ass drops to the floor beside him, head thudding into the wall behind me as I sigh heavily.

“I need her back too,” I mutter, the words thick and heavy in my throat.

He slinks from his bed, body low and timid, and climbs into my lap, wedging himself into the crook of my arm.

I’m not a cat person. Fuck, I’m not an anyone person. Yet Rosy’s changed that. Changed me, and my life now revolves around her completely. If she’s no longer in it, then that leaves me a broken, barren man with nothing left.

And nothing left to lose.

I’m not giving up. I’m not going to accept that she’s gone. It’s not even a possibility, at least not one I choose to accept.

“I’m getting her back, little beast. Fucking promise you, she’s coming home and never leaving us again,” I vow, stroking my hand along his back. His small body is almost eclipsed beneath my fingers. He’s grown some but still looks fucking tiny to me.

Renewed with some sort of hope, purpose, or whatever the fuck it is, I tuck the little beast back into his bed and leave my room.

Concern twinges in my gut when I see Max and Bry, both seated on the sofas, both looking like shit. There’s nothing I can say or do that’s going to change that. The only thing that can get them out of the despair is my girl coming home.

Walking straight past them, I head back out into the corridor, rolling my shoulders back in preparation to bully Logan into listening to my demands. Except he and another person jog down the corridor away from Rosy’s flat and ours. Noah slams into me when he turns my way, and I grab his shoulders to steady him.

His hand rubs his chest. “Logan got a message. Nothing definite but a potential location,” he updates, then brushes past me and back into our flat.

“Why the fuck aren’t we following him?” I gripe, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fuck it. I’ll go.