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“Raines. Or is it Cruz now?”
“Raven, good to see you. Everything in place?” I ask, glancing at the five other women, all dressed in black, gathered around her.
“You realize this is a big ask, right? We don’t do anything for free.” She smirks, crossing her arms and tapping her booted foot against the concrete.
“You owe me,” I grunt, glancing behind me.
She snorts and I turn back. “Fair enough. Better get the fuck out of here before the fireworks start. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your image.”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “If you don’t hear from me, get ahold of Ryker Helms in Synd. Tell him what’s going on.”
Concern flashes across her face. “You thinking of getting yourself killed?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance all while my body itches to get back to Aelia. I hate that I had to leave her behind. The sooner I get back, the better I’ll feel.
“With these people? You never know what they’ll do. Don’t underestimate them, Raven.”
The ride back to Guild headquarters is tense as scenario after scenario runs through my head of what I'll come back to. I miss my bike. I'd already be there if I was riding instead of stuck in traffic. Horns blare around us and I'm about ready to sprint back. Convincing myself that Aelia is fine doesn't work. Only seeing her in person will settle my nerves.
An hour later, we finally pull up in front of headquarters, and I rush up the stairs. The guards barely get the doors open before I'm barreling through. Once inside, I slow my pace, trying to project a calm I don't feel. The night is in full swing, members spilling from various rooms into the hallway. I'm able to slip through them without catching anyone's attention. It's the only saving grace right now.
When I reach the hallway of our bedroom, it's blissfully silent and I breathe a sigh of relief. If someone got to them, I'm sure it'd be chaos, or Grant would be waiting around to gloat.
My feet slow as I approach the door, my brain not processing what my eyes are seeing. The knob hangs at an odd angle, scuff marks surrounding it. I push the wood with my fingers, barely putting any pressure on it, and it swings open. Deep gouges line the door frame and my heart stalls in my chest.
Empty. The room is completely devoid of any life. Aelia's scent still lingers in the air, but nothing else remains of her. I don't even need to check the rest of the space, but I do anyway. The closet is a mess, clothes strewn about as if someone were searching for something. I blink and I'm suddenly in the bathroom with no recollection of moving. Blood splatters the tiles, the red a stark contrast against the white.
I blink again and I'm on my knees, hands braced against the floor as her blood—it has to be hers—smears across my palms. My vision darkens, a roaring taking over the silence that presses down on me.
Get up.
I groan, slamming my eyes closed against the voice. She's gone and it's my fault. I should have run when she asked. I should have gotten her out. I told her I loved her, then I abandoned her.
Get up.
Sitting up, I tip my head back, yelling at the ceiling, hoping I can drown out the voice. I'll stay here, waiting for them to find me. I don't give a shit about the Guild. None of it matters anymore with her gone. I don't know how long I stay there, attempting to turn my brain off, but eventually I open my eyes.
There's not enough blood for her to be dead. Now get up.
The voice that sounds suspiciously like Mac's rings in my ears, dampening the roar of my heartbeat. I swallow hard, then scrub my hands on my jeans. Stumbling, I haul myself to my feet, and stagger back to the bedroom.
A lead stone in my stomach weighs me down, making my movements slow and clumsy. Other than the damage to the door and the blood in the bathroom, there's no evidence of a struggle. The bed is mussed as if she was asleep when they came for her.
The thought pulls me up short. Aelia wouldn't sleep in the middle of the night. She's spent the last decade living in the dark. In my despair, I forgot about Avery. How the hell am I supposed to tell Jag, who didn't even want to come tonight, that she's gone? Ghost will go ballistic and retaliate against me. I have to find them.
I turn to rush out the door when my eyes snag on Aelia's pajamas. It's not one of my shirts, which she's taken to sleeping in every night. No, this is her ratty tank top she freaked out over when she thought I'd tossed them. The one thing that was truly hers. It's been stuffed in the back of a dresser drawer for months now. There's no reason she would have randomly taken them out.
Running out the door, I dash to the stairwell that was probably once for staff to remain unseen. I'm panting by the time I reach the right floor. I wait by the door, listening for anyone on the other side. Easing the wood open, I peek out before I slip back into the muted light of the stairs. I shoot off a text to Jag, warning him away and giving him a location to meet at. He sends a barrage of messages almost immediately, but I ignore them. I'll deal with the fallout if I can't get Avery out.
There's no use acting normal. If someone is watching the cameras, they already know I'm here. They're probably banking on me to go to Jenkins to get Aelia back. I'd do it too—if I thought it would work. With the way shit has been around here lately, I'm fucked.
I sprint for the closet I found Aelia in all those months ago and rip open the door. Quiet sobbing meets me, and I tear the blankets from the makeshift bed, reveling a cowering Avery. Tears stream down her blotchy face, terror radiating from every line in her body.Grabbing her arm, I yank her upright and she yelps.
"We don't have time. Where's Aelia?" I snarl.
She shakes her head, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs. "She brought me here and took off. She said she'd be back."
Slamming my eyes closed, I count to ten. It's the most I can give myself right now.
