Page 92 of Break The Ice

We stay like that, in a huddle, trapped in the nightmares I don’t think any of us have ever really healed from.

“Want to tell us what’s going on?” Callan asks.

I don’t. I really don’t, but I have to.

I open the saved section of recording that triggered me to melt down. “This! This is what’s wrong. It’s all fucking wrong. I’m going to kill this guy, Kit. I really am.”

Kit watches with a face that grows steadily more pale. “Oh, shit.”

Callan is breathing hard and too fast, and I pull him into me. He swallows hard and nods.

“Okay, let’s go through the rest of the footage together.”

We sit down, and it’s with a great deal of reluctance that I press play, but, this time, Kit and Callan stay with me. I find seven more nighttime explorations of our house and five daytime ones.

In each one, there is no possible way to work out his identity. I sit back when we get to the end. He didn’t break into the house while we were gone, which leads weight to the theory that he was there with us. He followed us across the country to taunt her in a hotel room. Waiting for his chance.

This predator is doing this for a fear response and because this is a game.

Kit reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m scared, but I can’t imagine how Ryann feels about all this.”

I stay silent for a long minute. “I can’t imagine it’s good.”

“What did you ask your family to handle?”

“I gave my dad the list of places where she has lived. They’re looking at anyone who moved there, checking security footage of different places she’s been, seeing if they can cross reference and discover his identity. I also sent them the photo Wren sent me of the boy on the team. His name is Eli Thompson.”

I bring up his information in the file that Zaden Mirakill sent me. It’s got photos ofhim as a boy, his date of birth, family history, but it’s not much. He disappeared off the face of the planet when her parents died.

“He was eighteen when she was fifteen. I wonder what triggered it?”

“It could have been anything, the way she looked, something she said, a perceived rejection. Maybe she smiled at him. Who fucking knows, and, to be honest, I don’t really care. He’s a threat to her. That’s enough for me to want him gone.”

Kit stands up, but he still looks pale and unhappy. “What do we tell them?”

I close my eyes. “Based on how well we’re all doing at communicating, I think we should probably go out there and tell the truth.”

“Even if it upsets or hurts her?”

“I think so. We need to start with a clean slate. If we start hiding information, then we might miss the clue that solves this.”

“You’re being remarkably calm,” Callan says cautiously.

My alpha is pale and shaky. He’s not taking this well.

I rub the stubble on my jaw and stand up, grabbing the door and holding it for them. “I’ve had a lot of time to think while I’ve been watching the feed. If we’d have talked to each other, we would have known all this beforehand.”

Kit shrugs and follows me into the lounge. Wren and Ryann look up, and though they smile, it doesn’t reach their eyes. The morning light shines through the windows, and I wonder if any of us will ever sleep here comfortably again.

I walk over and sit on the coffee table, reaching out to take her hand while Kit sits on the other side of her. Callan sits beside Wren, who takes one look at him and pulls him into a hug.

Yeah, this is pack. This is our future, and I’m not letting some piece of shit take it from us.

I gently break it to her, hating the fear and pain in her eyes. The panic is worse.

“That many times? How is he getting around without us scenting him?”

“Scent blockers,” Wren mutters furiously. “They’re available everywhere. He must put them on and come do his snooping and leave. Did he take her camera?”

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