Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
What if I’ve ruined our friendship by telling her the person she loves is a liar? But then I remind myself she wouldn’t stop being my friend over something like this. We’ve been through a lot worse shit together, like me finding out my mother had dementia and needed to be put into a home, and her finding out she had cancer. I’m sure a man could never tear us apart.
At least, that’s what I hope.
When I arrive back at my place, I get out of the car and head to the entrance as Matty drives off. That’s when I hear footsteps on the sidewalk behind me. Usually, I wouldn’t even register them, but something about their gait seems heavy and measured, as if each step is deliberate. Threatening. A chill creeps up my spine, and instinctively, I glance back and to the left.
Rylas.
He’s storming toward me with a pace that doesn’t falter, eyes wild, jaw clenched. There’s something unhinged in his expression, as if he’s barely holding himself together—like reason has already left the building, and all that’s left is rage. By the time he reaches me, my heart is hammering against my ribs, and the madness on his face tells me this won’t be a simple conversation.
I’m frozen in place.
I didn’t even manage to unlock the door.
I grip my keys in my hand, ready to hit him if the need arises. And that’s when I notice something glinting in his fist. It catches the light, a flash of silver that doesn’t belong. My stomach drops. He lifts his arm with a terrifying calm, and before I can react, before my brain can even catch up, there’s a sharp prick in my upper arm.
I gasp, stumbling back a step. My hand flies to the spot, and that’s when I feel it—a hypodermic needle lodged in my skin.
“Fuck,” I whisper, yanking it out with trembling fingers.
But it’s too late.
The world tilts. The ground shifts beneath my feet, and my limbs grow heavy. Too heavy. I blink hard, trying to focus, but everything around me dissolves into shadows.
Panic claws at my chest, but my body won’t listen.
He’s drugged me.
“You keep stepping in places you have no business in,” Rylas growls, his voice low and dark.
He looks like hell.
Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath his eyes, and his face is gaunt and sunken with exhaustion. His clothes are hanging off him in wrinkled, strained disarray, as if he has been living out of his car and hasn’t changed in a week.
But it’s his eyes that have fear churning in my stomach. Cold. Unforgiving. There is only hardness behind them, a man capable of things I never imagined. His glare pins me in place—he has already decided my fate and is just waiting for the right moment to deliver it.
“What yooou doin’?” I slur out as whatever he injected me with takes further control of me. He snatches the phone from my slackened grip.
Goddammit! I’m getting weaker. Tired. I blink a few times, trying to stay awake, but it’s a battle I won’t win.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” he grumbles just before everything goes black.
FORTY
ARLO
Soren calls to inform me that Rylas said he’s busy, and he’ll call him back when he can. That was the only response he got from him.
I head to Rylas’s house because I don’t believe he’s so busy that he can’t reply to our Lord. His wife, who has clearly been crying, answers the door. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her mascara is smeared.
“Arlo,” she says, surprised, before she wipes her eyes. “He isn’t here. He hasn’t been here for days.”
“Where would he be?” I question.
“I don’t know. I found out about him cheating, and I told him to leave.” She starts sobbing.
“Good. You shouldn’t let him back in,” I tell her, then say goodbye before turning and stepping off the porch.
I’m getting back into the car when Boston calls. “You aren’t going to like this,” he says.
“What?”
“I did some digging, and her phone’s last location pinged near the hunting grounds, and so was his.”
“Fuck,” I grit, hitting the steering wheel.
“Yeah. I’m going out there to have a look.”
“I’m on my way.” I start the car and head in that direction. I’ll beat Boston there as Rylas’s house is closer to the woods than where the station is located.
It takes me twenty minutes to get out there. The dirt road is rough and familiar, winding deeper into nowhere. It doesn’t take long before I reach the clearing where the Forsaken usually park on hunting nights.
And there it is—Rylas’s car, tucked beneath the trees like it belongs.
I shake my head, dread curling low in my gut.
He is not supposed to be here.
And he sure as shit isn’t supposed to bring anyone out here, which I have a feeling he has.
I call Soren. “Rylas is at the hunting grounds,” I tell him when he answers.