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Elden’s arms tightened around me.
“But this serial killer has a specific victim profile,” I argued. “Sex workers from a troubled background. Sariah is a college student from a wealthy background.”
Colby’s face was a mask of fury. “No, she’s not,” he grumbled. I’d never seen him look so serious, so angry, so worried.
No, I had seen him look like that before. The day I’d escaped covered in blood with a knife protruding from my back.
“What are you talking about? I go to college with her,” I argued. “She is one of the most well-liked students on campus. By the faculty and students.”
“Yeah, but she pays for her tuition, her fancy shit, her entire lifestyle by working webcams.” Colby’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it.
Nothing of my easygoing, cheeky friend remained. This was a cold-blooded outlaw. A chill passed through me at the sight … along with what he had said.
I looked from him to Elden who was holding me in a vice-like grip.
“What?” I whispered.
Elden rubbed my arms. “We only just found out. We’ve got a hacker in the Amber chapter who informed us.”
I saw his lips moving and heard the words, but they were coming through a vacuum.
“And you found out that she, her parents…”
“They live in a small town in Utah,” Elden said somberly. “They live paycheck to paycheck.”
I gulped at the information.
“So she makes her money, all of her money from her webcams,” Colby said. “From what we can gather, she doesn’t actually go on any dates with clients. But I doubt he’s strict on that facet of his victim profile.”
Victim profile
Sariah was avictim.
Again.
After she’d finally healed from the last time a man tried to make her into a victim because of what he thought he could take from her.
My breathing was rapid and shallow, my throat was bone dry, making it impossible to swallow. I squeezed my eyes shut through that and the burning pain at the base of my spine.
“You need to calm down,” Elden murmured against my ear.
My jaw dropped. “Let’s forget that saying that sentence to a woman, in any circumstance, is an act of war, let alone saying it to a pregnant woman,” I informed him as evenly as I could muster. “But it is straight up insanity saying it to a pregnant woman whose best friend has just been taken by aserial killer!” Now I was screaming.
“And you are almost nine months pregnant,” he hissed, obviously hanging on by a thread.
I should’ve given him some compassion since he was likely traveling back to the place where he thought I was going to die at the hands of this killer. But I was almost nine months pregnant, hormonal and worried about my best friend who I had just discovered I didn’t really know at all.
“Yes, Elden, I’m pregnant,” I gripped my eyes between my thumb and forefinger. “Vikings fought while pregnant, women in countries that don’t have maternity leave and don’t have any other options work through labor. I think I can handle getting a little pissed off and worried.”
Elden had finally released me, so I was now pacing up and down the long table that I’d never actually seen up close before. This room, referred to as ‘church’ was somewhat of a mystery to everyone who wasn’t wearing a Sons of Templar cut.
It wasn’t anything special. A long table with chairs arranged around it. No sigils to betray any kind of devil worship or witchcraft that might have been able to explain the sheer hot guy to normal guy ratio around there.
“What do we know?” I huffed out.
Elden was watching me with worry etched in his features, but I focused on the table, my eyes running over the men. Almost everyone was there except Hades who was in the back with Freya, Swiss who I knew was at home with Mom and Declan. And Javier, I had no clue where he was.
“We found her car less than an hour ago,” Lucas offered, glancing to Elden who was staring daggers at him. “As we said, all of her shit was there.” He paused, eyes darting to Elden again. “Sign of a struggle.”
