Page 77 of Forced Plus-Size Mate

Looking into Amanda’s eyes and flat-out lying was as hard as getting dragged half-dead through the snow.

I sleep deeply, and when I wake, I feel well-rested and refreshed. I have so much optimism for the day ahead, I’m considering telling Amanda everything.

I need to trust her, and her strength. Then we can fight this together, as a team.

When she isn’t by my side in the bed, I feel a faint moment of loss, but I’m not worried. But I get up to look for her, and immediately, I feel the house is too silent.

I should be able to hear her heartbeat, her breathing. But there’s just nothing.

An icy splinter pierces through my chest, sending fear racing through my guts. I can still catch her scent, very faintly, and run to the bedroom.

I look around the empty space, hurrying around as I search for the source of the scent. I find one of her sweaters on the floor under the bed, and I pick it up and hold it to my face, breathing deeply.

It does nothing to comfort me, and I hurl the sweater away, jogging through the house to the main bathroom. I don’t even have to open the door to know that she isn’t in there, but I do, anyway.

The vacant space seems to laugh at me and my failing hopes. There’s not even any sign it has been recently used. I’d feel much more hopeful if it was clouded with steam and beaded with water. Then I’d know she was recently here.

Maybe she just went out for breakfast.

I race to the kitchen, trying to hope even as my heart sinks. Every instinct I have is telling me that she’s gone, but I try to rationalize it, telling myself not to panic.

I can’t just make assumptions based on my emotions. That’s a dangerous thing to do, and I need to look at the evidence before I start freaking out.

My own good sense doesn’t stick, though, and I hurtle into the kitchen, checking around for a note. I pause by the kettle. It’s ice-cold, so I know no one made coffee or tea recently.

My phone! Maybe there’s a message.

I return to the living room, not enjoying the wicked irony that I’ve come back to where I started with nothing to show for it. There are no new messages from anyone, and I stand there staring stupidly at my screen for a few seconds.

My mind races over possibilities so fast, it trips and falls, making all sorts of scenarios tumble together. The one I fear the most—that Decker has come and taken the witches—is by far the worst, so I have to address that one first.

Always go to the worst-case scenario. Every minute we waste could be the one that takes her life.

The ice that pierced my chest is now bleeding into my veins. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, even when Jethro was torturing me.

I take a deep breath and hold it, willing my fear away. Even though I manage to settle my breathing, my heart still beats wildly and sweat trickles down my sides. I open my phone again and call Bae.

“Morning,” he mumbles sleepily. “What’s up?”

“Amanda’s gone.”

“What?”

“Gone, not here, vanished. She’s not in the house at all.”

“It’s okay. Maybe she just went out.”

“No, that’s not it. Has there been any word from the scouts?”

“Not a whisper. Why?”

“I’m worried Decker pack came and took them.”

“That would be almost impossible. They’d have to sneak into town and move around freely to kidnap them all. I don’t see how they could manage it.”

“I’m going to make a few calls,” I say. “Can you organize some help to look for them?”

“No problem. On it right now. Meet at Shelley’s?”

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