Page 33 of Beautiful Butterfly

Wyatt breathed out slowly, trying to center himself. “My cheetah almost got free.”

“I know.” Ian turned right when Solomon did. “My panther sensed the cheetah’s close presence. That’s why I rushed things. I wanted to get you out of there before you lost control or I broke his fucking hands for touching me.”

Wyatt closed his eyes. He was in the same city as Alister, so close he could practically taste it. “No matter what goes down, I’m getting to my mate.”

“We’re not leaving without him,” Ian replied.

Wyatt was wound so tight that, when his phone rang, he jumped. He pulled it from his pocket to see that Cannon was calling him. “I’m on Alister’s trail right now.”

“Where are you?” Cannon asked. “I’m in Springrest, and I have Deputy Kijani Tenshi with me.”

“What about Paris?” Wyatt asked.

“He’s with Morgan and Sam. I couldn’t let you do this alone, Wyatt. The entire department wanted to come, but Sheriff Harper knew that wasn’t possible. He and the others are on standby if we need them, though.”

“I owe you guys a debt.” Wyatt told Cannon the street they were on.

“You don’t owe us shit. We look out for mates. I just put the street in my GPS. Do you have a cross street so I can narrow down your location?”

Wyatt glanced around. “Transport Street.”

“Hang on,” Cannon said. “Okay, got it. We’re five minutes from you. We drove into the city before I called. Luck must be on our side.”

Wyatt sure as hell hoped so. “He’s pulling into an underground parking garage.” He glanced at the building and gave Cannon the address. “Holy shit. How are we going to find him with that many floors?”

“Find who?” Cannon asked.

“Solomon Tarne is the one who has Alister.”

“Are you sure?” Cannon sounded surprised.

“I’d bet my life,” Wyatt said.

“We’re heading underground, Cannon. We might lose you,” Ian said.

“We’re two minutes away. We’ll meet—”

The call dropped as Ian drove into the parking garage, breaking the control arm of the parking booth.

“They can send me the bill.”

Ian drove up the winding ramp until he spotted the sleek, black car. He eased into an empty space ten cars down from Solomon’s. At the moment, Wyatt didn’t care if the space belonged to a resident. While they would be inconvenienced, Wyatt was trying to save his mate.

Solomon’s hard-soled shoes echoed in the garage as he walked to the elevator. He used a keycard to gain access and then stepped inside, the door sliding shut.

“How’re we going to get inside?” Ian asked. “We don’t have a card, and we don’t know what floor he’s on.”

With a snarl, Wyatt walked over to Solomon’s car and yanked the driver’s door open.

A short and heavyset man startled as he stared wide-eyed at him. “I don’t have any money on me.”

Wyatt yanked him out. “You’re going to tell me what floor Solomon Tarne lives on. Then you’re going to get me on the elevator.”

A white SUV parked parallel to the cars on Wyatt’s left. Cannon and Kijani got out and joined them.

“He’ll kill me if I tell you,” the driver whined. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“Tell me or I swear I’ll make your death slow and painful,” Wyatt snarled.

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