Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Quinn’s jaw muscle tics, but he rushes upstairs. I shake my head, pissed. I rotate on Thatcher, but he towers near Jane while she slowly rifles through a first-aid kit. For her bloodied knees.
Thatcher barks orders, “I need eyes on all the cats!” He already places the calico kittens in their leopard-print carrier. Securing them. “We have Walrus and Carpenter. Where are Ophelia, Lady Macbeth, and Toodles?”
Jane blinks drunkenly at him. “You know their names?”
I glare at Thatcher. “Where the fuck is Farrow?”
Nothing.
No acknowledgement of my question. In the grand scheme of security, it’s unimportant for me to be aware of my own bodyguard’s whereabouts. I’m supposed to sit and let the extra security protect us. I’m not supposed to care about them.
Not even if they get hurt.
It’s their job.
I spot Price by the broken window, the Alpha lead chats to a younger security member. My phone vibrates angrily on the rumpled sleeping bags. All of my family must be freaked.
My mom…
I have to call her.
Thatcher doesn’t even answer Jane’s question. The most strict, no-nonsense guy on the team. I swear, I liked that about him, but now I’m fucking irritated.
Thatcher holds his mic. “Jane, do you have any strays in the house?” She struggles with the gauze packet, and I go to help. He cuts me off and takes my place. Kneeling at the loveseat, he tears open the gauze.
I need to do something, but security loves to impede me from doing anything productive.
I could scream I’m so frustrated right now. I rub my face.
Where’s Farrow?
Where’s Farrow?!
Where’s my… I stare fixatedly at the closed front door.
“No strays,” Jane tells him, trying her hardest not to slur. “I did adopt another yesterday. Licorice. He’s a four-year-old…gray, long-haired. Blue eyes.”
Thatcher speaks into his mic. “There’s a sixth cat—Licorice. Gray.” He presses the gauze to her knees, and Jane rips open a Band-Aid with her teeth. Thatcher tells my best friend, “Lady Macbeth, Toodles, and Ophelia are accounted for.”
Jane nods, barely relaxing.
The door opens, and my chest rises, thinking it’s Farrow. But it’s not.
It’s not him. It’s Luna’s bodyguard.
Fuck this.
I charge over to the Alpha lead. My gait is strong and determined. I’ve never shied from any of these men. Not for a damn breath. Not for a second. And they’re going to answer me now.
“Price.” My firm voice yanks his attention from the younger security member. “I need to know where Farrow is. Now.”
“You should sit—”
“No. You fucking tell me where my bodyguard is. This isn’t up for discussion.”
Price clicks his mic. “Price to security, someone give me an update on Farrow.” Right. Farrow never grabbed his radio before he ran outside. Price can’t contact him directly.
He stares faraway. “Price to security,” he repeats. “Someone give me an update on Farrow.”
I cross my arms over my chest. The wait killing me. I turn slightly and spot Akara descending the staircase.
I frown, expecting Sulli to be right behind him. The last image I have—he was with her. I was sure he was with her. “Akara!” I call out. “Where’s Sulli?”
He walks tensely over. “She left.” He touches his earpiece, distracted, then his focus returns. “She texted her dad halfway through the movie to come pick her up. She felt a lot worse than she let on.”
“Ryke was here then?”
He nods.
I’m not surprised. Sulli has a very close friendship with her dad and her mom. She tells them everything. If she felt dizzy or nauseous, she wouldn’t have hesitated to call Ryke.
“He planned to stay and check on you and Jane,” Akara explains, “but it got chaotic, and he needed to get Sulli out before paparazzi blocked the street.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
Akara looks upset, his face cut in severe lines. “I can’t officially be on her detail since I’ve been drinking. Someone else is with Sul.” He touches his earpiece and takes a step towards the kitchen. Before he leaves, he pats my shoulder like I’m glad you’re okay, hang in there.
“Hey,” I say to him. “Thanks.”
He nods. “It’s just another shitty day, right?”
“Doomsday,” I say, and a knot is in my throat. Remembering Farrow. Price repeats that same phrase for the fourth time.
I’m close to searching outside for Farrow myself. Which may worsen the situation, but if no one’s going to find him, I will.
“Price to security,” he repeats, and then the front door opens. “There he is.” I can’t even relax at the news. Is he fucking hurt? blares in my head.
Farrow saunters inside, not casually. His muscles are taut. He locks the door behind him. And the moment he sees me, he almost rocks back, nose flared. “You went outside?” He hones in on my reddened cheek and my lip—I rub my mouth.
It stings. A camera must’ve busted my lip open.
I zero in on his bloody forearms. Skin scraped like he slid against pavement. All the way to his elbows.