Page 112 of Blood and Buttercups

Just as I’m prepping to call her, another text comes in. This time, it’s a photo.

I draw in a sharp breath when I see Ethan posing in a selfie next to Olivia.

A text soon follows it.

Ethan: Your friend is delightful, but I prefer your company. Why don’t you join us?

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“Are you all right over there?”Cassian asks when he notices my distress.

I look up. “You. You left at the same time.”

“I have an exceptional sense of smell and above-average hearing, but I can’t read minds. Care to elaborate further?”

“You left with Olivia last night.” I squeeze my phone in my grasp and then lower my voice. “Did you take her to Ethan?”

Cassian frowns. “Olivia and I parted as soon as we left the house. She was talking to Max when I pulled out.”

I eye him, calling my brother. He answers almost immediately.

“Did you talk to her?” he demands.

“Ethan has her.”

Max is quiet for several seconds, and then his voice goes hard. “Ethan…yourstalker?”

“Did Cassian leave before you last night?”

“He did.” His voice sounds absent, like he’s panicking a little.

“Was he around when you were making plans to meet at the coffee shop this morning?”

“No, I don’t think so. Piper, we have to call the police.”

My vampire babysitter leans against the counter, wearing a look of practiced patience.

“The police won’t do anything, and NIHA is pretending the situation doesn’t exist,” I say.

“We have to do something!” Max exclaims.

“We are.”

“What?”

I eye Cassian. “We’re going to go after her ourselves. Get over here, and we’ll figure out a plan.”

As soon as I hang up, Cassian says, “I take it that’s what your cryptic questioning was about? Ethan has Olivia?”

“Do you still want to go after him?”

“I do, but you know Noah won’t approve of you playing hunter, don’t you?”

I do know that, and that’s why, despite a heck of a lot of reservations, I say, “Then maybe we won’t tell Noah.”

Cassian lifts his brows. “Let me read Ethan’s text.”

I hand him my phone and watch as he scrolls back to read all the messages. I shift forward nervously when he begins to type, reaching for my phone. “What are you saying?”

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