SEBASTIAN

“Scarlet!” My voice was hoarse with the effort of shouting her name over and over again as I made my way through the house. There was nothing but death. I checked every single room, closet, and cupboard I could find. She wasn’t in the house.

“Sebastian, she isn’t here,” Tristan called from downstairs. But I was too busy searching her room for the fifth time that I couldn’t focus on whatever the fuck they were doing down there. “We need to figure out who did this!” He called up again. “Let’s sit down and make some phone calls!”

I sighed and took one last glance around her room before running downstairs. Tristan was already on the phone with whoever the fuck he thought was going to have some sort of answer. I was fuming. I couldn’t sit down. Elliot was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, staring off into space and chewing on his lips, the only amount of emotion would let anyone see.

Tristan was in a heated discussion with someone in Spanish, so I could only assume he had reached someone in Derek’s crew. His face turned red, and the vein on his neck popped. He threw his phone against the fireplace and watched the screen spiderweb.

Great. Good thing we have all of our contacts backed up elsewhere.

The house phone rang.

We all looked at each other and then in the general direction of the phone. We only had one landline phone in the entire home, and it was for the staff to use. None of us had ever even touched the thing. On the third ring, I was out of the living room and into the hallway where it hung on the wall. Tristan and Elliot ran in behind me.

“What?” I asked into the receiver.

“What would it mean to you if I said we had your little Romani pet?”

I held the phone out for the other guys to hear. “Why would I believe you?”

The voice on the other end sighed. “Was the five guards murdered and your missing bitch not enough? Fine.” I heard the crunching of gravel in the background and then what sounded like a door opening. “No eres tan fuerte ahora, ah perra?”

I looked at Tristan. I didn’t understand a lick of Spanish.

“He just called her a bitch,” Tristan mouthed. The vein in Tristan’s neck looked like it was about to burst. I was having a hard time not cracking the phone in half. And Elliot stood there, still as a statue, staring at the phone like he would jump through it.

There was a shuffle on the other side of the phone and then a grunt as something hit the gravel. That’s when she screamed. All three of us tensed simultaneously at that bloodcurdling sound. I saw red, and every muscle in my body poised for a fight. I was going to torture them for hours and then light pieces of them on fire and watch their flesh bubble and burn. I would break every little fucking bone in their pathetic bodies until they screamed for death.

“Solo espera lo que tenemos planeado para ti.” And then I heard him spit on her. He fucking spit on my fucking woman.

“He said something about waiting to see what he had planned for her,” Tristan whispered.

“Let’s go!” someone else called from further away. As I was about to ask what they wanted, he came back on.

“The warehouse.” He hung up, and I looked up at Elliot and Tristan.

“We’re going.”

“Of course we’re going,” Elliot said. “We need to load up.”

“You guys get what we need,” Tristan said. “I’ll call in backup.” I nodded and followed Elliot towards our weapons room. “And Seb?” I looked at him over my shoulder. “You have free rein in there.”

I smiled.

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