Page 74 of Wilde and Deadly

Davey exhaled, forcing his pulse to slow.

But his stomach hadn’t unclenched. His hands hadn’t stopped itching.

“Ah, here we go. My date’s returned.” Frost smiled again, knowing, taunting. “Enjoy the gala, David.”

He offered Rue his arm when she reached them. She shot Davey only the faintest of worried looks before accepting the offered arm.

They walked away, disappearing seamlessly into the crowd, leaving Davey standing there as a wrongness settled in his bones. Not the kind you could quantify, but the kind years of war had hardwired into him. The kind that meant the difference between walking out of a mission or getting sent home in a bag.

“Comm check,” he said under his breath.

“Sullivan, check.”

“Liam, check.”

“Yo,” Dom said, sounding bored. Knowing him, he was probably only half paying attention.

“If I go dark,” Sabin drawled, all lazy amusement, “it won’t be foul play—it’ll be foreplay. There somerealpretty ladies here.”

Brody groaned. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, Sabin. You got game, and the rest of us are just background noise.”

The easy rhythm of the check-in stalled. The beat stretched too long.

Where was Elliot’s dry comeback?

“Elliot?” Dom said, suddenly alert. “Where are you?”

No answer.

Davey’s heart rate spiked. “Elliot, report.”

Nothing.

“Elliot, goddammit, respond!” His voice sharpened, drawing a few curious glances from nearby partygoers, but the silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity as Frost’s warning curled through his thoughts like smoke.

Not everyone you love is safe tonight.

“Fuck,” he growled, scanning the room. His gaze locked on Rowan, who was fuming as she stormed after her sister.

He didn’t have time for this.

He intercepted her, grabbed her arm, and steered her toward the exit. “We’re leaving.”

“What the hell?” she hissed, trying to yank her arm free. “I have to stop Rue?—”

“We’ve got a situation.”

She must have heard the panic in his voice because she stopped struggling and fell into step beside him. “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, he tapped his comm again, harder this time. “Elliot, respond.”

Still nothing.

A cold knot twisted in his gut.

The first few times? A miss. A distraction. A bathroom break.

But now the silence wasn’t just an absence. It was a fucking void. A dead space where Elliot should have been.

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