Page 71 of Vicious Luna

She lowers the tip of the pen to the paper, jotting it down. “Do you know her maiden name?”

“Smith.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet mine. “Well, that definitelywon’t narrow it down,” she chuckles, dropping her gaze to continue taking notes. “Any other family?”

I stretch my arms over my head, leaning back with a heavy sigh. “Just an aunt, I think. Never met her, though. I just remember that my mom went to visit her once when I was a kid.”

“Do you know where?”

“Tulsa, I think?”

“Is that where you lived?”

“No, and we moved around a lot. I’ve lived in Iowa, Illinois, Ohio, Michigan…”

She nods as she continues writing, the room falling silent but for the sound of her pen scratching across the page.

“This is a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?” I mutter wryly, stabbing my fingers into my hair with another sigh.

Sloane stops writing, lifting her head to glance up at me again. “Not at all,” she replies, offering me an encouraging smile. “I’ve got a hunch about where I can start. I just need to check in with my mom…” she abruptly trails off at the exact moment I get a terrible twisting sensation in my gut, so severe that it sends me shooting to my feet, head snapping back and forth in search of danger.

The last time I had a gut feeling like this, it ended with me putting bullets in Griff’s and Adams’ skulls. I belatedly realize that Sloane’s also on her feet, pale and wide-eyed, seemingly reacting the same way I am even though there’s no outward signs of anything amiss.

“Do you feel it, too?” I rasp, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end in warning.

“Are you an intuitive?” she asks with guarded suspicion.

“Awhat?”

Her phone suddenly starts blaring with some sort of alarm and she stoops to yank it from her bag, blinking at the screen. “Nevermind, I’ve gotta go,” she mumbles, shoving her phone back inside before hauling the tote up onto her shoulder.

I step in her path as she starts for the door, adrenaline soaring and pulse thundering. “What’s happening?” I demand.

“We’re under attack,” she snaps, brows drawing together in frustration as she tries to duck around me to get to the exit. “Move!” she huffs.

“Let me come with you,” I implore.

“What?” she scoffs, flinching back with a scowl. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” I counter, fighting back a wince as I feel the beast inside start pushing harder against my mental barriers. “If it’s The Guild, then maybe I can see if they’re willing to talk, try to settle this without bloodshed.”

She rocks back to stare at me, her expression twisted with indecision.

Fuck, if she doesn’t agree, I might have to force my way out of here. If this awful gut feeling has something to do with the mate bond I have with Avery, then she’s in danger- and I’m not about to sit here in this cell and do nothing.

“Please,” I rasp.

Sloane must see the desperation in my eyes, because she heaves a sigh, finally conceding with a jerky nod. “Fine,” she grits out, waving me out of the way so she can open the door. “C’mon.”

33

“Keep up,” Sloane shouts in a clipped tone as the two of us sprint down the hall from the cell. Even though she has to take two steps for each of mine, I’m the one falling behind as we race through the corridor, that horrible sense of foreboding still twisting in my gut. I have no idea what we’re about to go charging into when we leave this basement, but I’ve already snapped into mission mode. I’m focused solely on going through the motions, following Sloane’s lead as she veers off to approach the last door before the stairs rather than continuing up them.

“We need to arm up,” she breathes as she punches a sequence of numbers into the electronic keypad affixed to the wall beside the door, the lock disengaging with a shrill beep. It’s similar to the coded locks we use at The Guild’s safehouses- yet another indication of how vastly we underestimated this particular werewolf pack. Their technology is just as sophisticated as ours, and when Sloane swings the door wide to reveal a fully stocked armory, I see just how much we underestimated their firepower, too.

We never had werewolves fight back with guns before, but it seems this pack has been preparing to take on The Guild.

I don’t have time to fully appreciate the impressive cache of weapons in the room. I just hurriedly follow Sloane inside, fighting back a wave of nausea as the knots in my stomach wind tighter. She rushes over to a large table positioned in the center of the armory and stoops down, yanking black canvas gun bags from underneath and tossing them up onto the surface.

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