Page 120 of Claiming Their Omega

Charles immediately looks concerned. “Of course, of course, whatever you need to do. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow and your mate is all right.”

Of course, Grace isn’t truly our mate, but that doesn’t matter. Whether it’s official or not, whether she chooses to stay with us in the end or not, none of it matters in this moment. We love her like she’s our mate, and she needs us.

And we’re going to fucking get to her.

I know that if we don’t show up at the auction tomorrow, there will be questions, but I’m sure Charles will straighten it out—and honestly, I’m not even thinking or caring about that in this moment. It can all go to hell for all I care. The only thing that matters is protecting Grace.

We rush out to our car, leaving everything behind. Hendrix is already trying to call Grace’s phone, trying to reach her that way, and Easton is calling her family.

“No one’s answering,” Easton grunts, frustration coloring his tone. “It’s late. They must have their phones off for the night.”

“Grace isn’t answering her phone either,” Hendrix reports. “It’s going to voicemail.”

A hundred horrible thoughts race through my mind as we pile into the truck and peel out. I can sense the grim mood in the car and I don’t have to ask to know that my pack mates are all thinking the same thing I am:

Maybe this whole auction business was a distraction.

We raced over here all full of fire and fury ready to protect our reputations, and we left the ranch undefended. We left Grace alone. How could we have been so stupid!

The idea that the McAllisters could be hurting her right now—it makes me see red. If they’ve laid a single finger on her, I’ll kill them with my bare hands, and I know that my pack mates will help.

We take back roads so that we can speed without contending with other cars, busting our asses. Thank fuck we have a full tank of gas because Easton’s responsible and made us fill up when we arrived. We unhitched the trailer to leave it at the auction with all the others so we’ve got nothing to stop us from going as fast as the pickup can manage the entire time.

There shouldn’t be a Sheriff’s car out in the country like this, but if there is, they’ll just have to fucking follow us until we get home to the ranch.

The entire time, I try to reach out to Grace in my mind. I’ve never tried to do that before, to speak to her in words like that rather than just letting her feel what I feel, and reacting to the emotions she gives to us in return. But I need her to hear me.

Hang on, Grace! We’re coming. Just hang on!

I don’t get anything in response, which is worse than feeling her pain. If I could feel her—I’d take anything. At least it would mean she’s alive. Getting nothing—

“She’s alive,” Easton says, as if he can hear my thoughts. Maybe he can. “We’d know if she was dead. We’d know. We’d feel it.”

Cade grunts, a combination of anger and distress. I’m sure he’s thinking about his father, and that just hurts me more. I don’t want to lose Grace, and not just for myself, but for my pack mates. I don’t want Cade to go through what his father did.

“Go faster,” I snap. “Easton, have you gotten through to her family yet? Anyone?”

“No.” He shakes his head grimly. “I’ll keep trying.”

Cade is already flooring it, but he tries to make the car go faster anyway. The way the pickup shakes it feels like it’s going to fall apart. We’re definitely pushing it past its limit.

I hate that I’m not driving, because at least it would give me something to do. But Cade’s our fastest and fiercest driver. It has to be him.

We get back to the ranch just as dawn is streaking across the sky in pinks and purples. It’s just enough light for us to see by, and we can immediately see what’s wrong.

The horses are out everywhere, some huddled by the house, others munching on the grass. One is eating Grace’s beloved daisies. I can hear other animals fussing, the chickens mad they haven’t been fed yet, the cows lowing for a milking.

And there’s the barn: a smoldering husk.

Cade slams on the brakes, and we all rush out of the car.

“Grace!” I yell. “Grace!”

The others all shout too, their voices carrying through the air. She could be anywhere. There’s no sound of anyone human, no sign of her. Just the animals and the embers of the fire.

“Grace!” I yell again. I rush for the ranch house.

She had been enjoying herself in bed when I last felt her. What if she was surprised in there, what if she’s lying in that bedroom we made all nice for her—

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