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)
Putting the cell on speakerphone so that Evander would be able to hear everything, Isaiah answered with: “Tell me.” The words came out hard and fast.
Farrell pulled in a breath. “Sebastian Vercetti is in your house,” he reluctantly admitted.
Isaiah hissed out a breath. Rage, powerlessness, torment, anxiety, panic, horror—it all pummeled him like a shower of sharp rocks. His cat went AWOL.
“Jesus Christ,” breathed Evander, pressing his foot harder on the pedal.
“Davide is there as well, and another of their pack mates,” Farrell went on.
Isaiah gripped the edge of his seat as if it could anchor him. Truth be told, nothing could steady him in that moment. “And Quinley?” The question came out choked. He knew she was alive, because he could feel her. But “alive” didn’t mean “conscious” or “uninjured.”
“Unhurt, by the looks of it. It’s hard to tell.”
“Round up some pride mates and get inside the—”
“A bunch of us are discreetly surrounding the house,” Farrell assured him, “but we can’t barge in there.”
Isaiah scowled. “Why the hell not?”
A pause. “They’ve attached explosives to the walls.”
Terror spiked through Isaiah’s blood and made his gut roll. “What?”
“I don’t know if they’ve come ready to die here or if they just intend to blow up the house when they’re away from it. Either way, if they think they have no way out, if they feel cornered, they might set off the explosives.”
Isaiah squeezed his eyes shut.
“We have to move cautiously,” Farrell continued. “Sneaking inside wouldn’t be a problem. But if the pack detects our presence, they might press the detonator.”
Isaiah rubbed hard at his forehead. “Why are they even there if it’s not to kill Quinley?” Were they waiting for him?
“It does seem that their goal is to get rid of her. But, even armed, they’re having a difficult time with that. Mostly because they can’t find her.”
Isaiah’s hand dropped to his lap. “They can’t find her?”
“She’s in her cat form, hiding. She pops out every now and then, deals them a little injury, and then disappears again.”
Jesus. Isaiah didn’t know if he wanted to give her a metaphorical bow for her mercilessness or to shake her for not staying completely out of the pack’s sight. His inner feline was leading toward the first. “So she’s playing with them.”
“She’s a black-foot, Isaiah. What did you expect? They don’t do well with being targeted. They may run, but they’ll circle back and come at you. You personally got some vengeance when you killed Tommaso. She wants her own piece of the vengeance pie. The pack should have expected that, but they have a habit of underestimating females.”
Right then, Isaiah was grateful for the latter. The pack hadn’t arrived prepared for a struggle. That had given her an advantage. “How did they manage to sneak past Joaquin?”
“They didn’t. They found him in the woods and overpowered him, then left him—either thinking he was dead or that he soon would be. We took him to Helena, he’s fine now.”
“That’s a relief at least,” muttered Evander.
“Like I said, we have the house surrounded,” Farrell went on. “If the pack members try to leave, we’ll take them down. But it would be risky for us to try to enter. If you want us to take that chance—”
“No,” Isaiah blurted out. “No, we can’t risk that they’d decide to go out in a literal blaze of glory.” He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “I don’t get why they’re so set on catching Quinley. They could just walk out and then press the detonator.” He hated to voice that fear aloud, to give it life, but he just couldn’t understand.
“Sebastian watched his baby brother have his neck snapped, and he’ll know there’s a high probability that our pride eliminated Tommaso. My guess, considering he hasn’t been content with attacking her from a distance? Ending her life with his bare hands is the only thing that’ll satisfy his need for vengeance. Plus, well, I’m not even sure a house explosion would actually end a black-foot—they’re freakily difficult to kill. He’ll want to be sure she’s dead before he presses that detonator.”
“He could decide ‘to hell with that’ if he can’t catch her.”
“They’re not trying to hurry, so they must be under the impression that you can’t sense Quinley’s emotions. It means they won’t suspect that you’re on your way home, or that the pride is aware of their presence here. That gives us time.”
Yeah, but would it give them enough time? Isaiah hauled in a jagged breath. “Be ready to take them down if they leave.”
“Will do.” The line went dead.
Isaiah clutched his phone tight, tempted to fling it. “I shouldn’t have left her.”
Evander slid him a sideways look of reprimand. “Isaiah—”
“No, I was suspicious of why the pack would try luring her to a train station. I’ve studied Sebastian—he’s a guy who’d expect a submissive to be too afraid to follow such an instruction. I found it odd that the pack would believe she’d truly do it, but I didn’t question it the way I should have.” Self-loathing filled him, slow and slick. “I didn’t think they’d come to the house for Quinley.”