Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“It’s hard to follow her scent,” groused Davide, slamming a cupboard door shut. “It’s everywhere and nowhere. There’s no actual trail coming from or leading to any place.”
Sebastian reached out with his senses, searching for a ribbon of scent to follow. There was none. “So maybe she just didn’t come into the kitchen.”
Davide gave his head a fast shake. “There’s no trail in any room. I’d suggest we shift, but our animals would do no better at finding her. They’d also eat her alive if they did, and you’re set on snapping her neck yourself.”
His frustration mounting, Sebastian kicked a stool, sending it skidding aside. “She has to be here somewhere. She can’t have just disappeared.”
“Seb?” Wattie called out.
“What?”
“I think … I think she might be sitting in the Christmas tree.”
Feeling his brows draw together, Sebastian stalked out of the kitchen and through to the living area.
Wattie pointed to a particular spot. “Look.”
Sebastian tracked the hyena’s gaze. A tawny, black-striped cat was perched on a tree branch, huddled near the thin trunk, her light-green gaze fixed on his.
His irritation wisping away, Sebastian grinned. “There you are.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t tense. Didn’t look in the slightest bit perturbed.
She was either too dumb to sense the very real danger that she was in or she stupidly thought her mate would get here in time to save her.
His wolf snarled, inching closer, hungering to attack. “Come on out,” Sebastian coaxed. She wouldn’t understand his words, but her human half would; she’d communicate what he wanted to the feline. “We’re not going to kill you. Not if you shift back and tell us where Tommaso is.”
The cat only blinked. It was a slow, uncaring movement that held a hint of dismissiveness.
His wolf’s hackles rose in affront, and Sebastian pressed his lips together. “It’s that, or we butcher you here and now. Imagine how your mate will feel coming home to find your body, dead and bloody and broken.”
Another lazy, nonchalant blink.
Disrespectful little bitch. Sebastian put his face closer to the tree. “Come out from there right fucking now.”
She lunged. Dove at him so damn fast she was a mere blur. Hissing, she clawed rabidly at his face, scraping a claw right down his eyeball.
He staggered backwards as he cried out in pain, reaching up to grab her.
That fast, she was gone. Gone. It was like trying to catch smoke.
Putting his fingers to his eye, he backed up and whirled around. He couldn’t see her anywhere. His furious wolf let out a loud growl of pure challenge.
“Jesus, are you okay?” asked Davide, wincing.
“No. Fuck.” His eye felt like it was on fire. “Where did she go?”
Wattie puffed out a baffled breath. “I don’t know. She moved too fast for me to—Shit, Seb, your eye don’t look good.”
“Of course it doesn’t! She scratched my goddamn eyeball! Find. Her.”
They searched everywhere, flipping up or knocking over furnishings; emptying cupboards and clearing shelves; ripping open—
A pain-filled curse erupted out of Wattie as one of his legs crumpled, his foot wobbling. The big man went down on one knee, hissing in sheer agony.
His sore eye squeezed shut, Sebastian scowled. “What the hell?”
Wattie bared his teeth. “She got my Achilles heel, the bitch! Darted out of nowhere, fucked up my foot, and then vanished into thin air again.”
Growling a curse, Sebastian returned to ransacking the living area. With Davide’s help, he did the same to the dining area. Then the kitchen. But—
A bellow of agony burst out of Davide, his back arching, his face scrunching up in pain.
“What?” demanded Sebastian.
“The cat pounced on me from behind,” he ground out.
Sebastian examined his brother’s back. Claw marks ran down the length of it all the way to the base of his spine. Cloth was torn and skin was shredded. It was like she’d landed on his nape, hooked her claws into his flesh, and then dragged them right through his skin as she skidded downwards.
“She’s in here!” Wattie yelled.
Snarling, Sebastian darted back into the living area, his wolf raking at his insides; demanding release so he could savage the cat.
“She ran under the sofa,” Wattie told him.
Sebastian whipped out his gun—topped with a silencer so as not to attract unwanted attention from neighbors—and pulled the trigger again and again, peppering the couch with bullets. A hissing yowl of pain rang out.
He smirked, prowling to the sofa. He moved it out of the way … and his smirk faded in an instant. There was nothing. Not even the scent of blood.
He clenched his fist. “That fucking cat is toying with us. I’m gonna blow her head off, I swear to Christ.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
So tense with the sense of urgency thrumming through him, Isaiah almost jumped when his phone rang. Leaning forward in the front passenger seat, he whipped it out of his back pocket. Farrell.