Page 67 of Depraved
“True.” She nods her head as she continues to hold my gaze, not at all ruffled by my question. Her mind seems much more settled than it did a few minutes ago. Maybe that’s because now her plan is unfolding, and in her mind, there’s no turning back. “He’s unhinged in more ways than one. But, if you want to catch a fish … you need the bait the fish likes to eat, right? And you need to toss your hook in the water somewhere the fish can get to, right?”
“What the hell is with all the fishing metaphors?”
She gives a pained little smile and lip pucker as her eyes dart to one side in memory. “My dad.”
I reach out for her, and she extends her hand. I latch onto her fingers, wrapping them in mine. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Hush. No time for that. We need to rest, to get ready for tomorrow.”
I cringe. “This sounds like the start of a bad horror movie.”
“Not the start—the end of one.”
“Don’t be all clever. You know what I mean. This isn’t smart, Elena.” Fuck. I said it. I cringe, waiting for the blowback from my words.
Her expression hardens again. “Sitting and waiting isn’t smart. If we wait, then we’re doing everything on his terms. Want another piece of dad-wisdom? ‘If you want to win the game … make the rules.’”
Goddammit.
I stare up at her gray eyes, the eyes I fell for when I first saw her. I can’t say no. She’s doing this, with or without me; that much is evident in the stubborn set of her jaw.
I drop my gaze and nod, giving in because I want to be with this woman until I take my dying breath—which might just be tomorrow.
* * *
My hands trembleon the steering wheel, and I punch the gas, speeding through the first red light we come to, and ignoring the gasps from Elena’s mom and Georgia. I can’t take the anxiety of sitting there at the light—eyes darting around, waiting for Thomas Stone to leap out at us.
Nope. Just keep driving.
The sky is partially overcast. It's not the best weather, and it makes me paranoid. The clouds cast shadows on some of the buildings. My eyes keep darting over anytime a cloud shadow moves. It makes me feel like an idiot.
Nervous sweat gathers on my brow. I’m pretty sure Elena and her mom can scent my discomfort.
The fifteen-minute drive passes by in a blur that feels way too fast and way too long at the same time. I pull up in front ofBella’s Bridal. My knee jiggles with nervous energy, and I consider driving right past it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I pull into the narrow parking lot in the upscale outdoor mall and park.
I let out a deep breath. This might be my last time driving a car. Unbuckling. Opening the door. Negative thoughts overtake my brain, but my limbs keep moving. Because while the rational side of me thinks that this is a terrible fucking idea, another side of me wants to get a jump on the younger Stone.
Pluto pulls up in a black Audi next to me and parks. Warcraft is in the passenger seat next to him. But even having two alpha bodyguards doesn’t stop the sick, sloshy feeling in my stomach.
Thomas won’t show alone. I don’t think. I hope he hasn’t rigged another bomb like last time. Oh, shit. Why did I have to go and think that? Don’t think that! I command my brain. But it’s not the best listener.
I open the back door and let the women slide out. My grip on their hands as I help them stand is slick and sweaty. Elena’s mother is the last to climb out. She pauses and gives me a look. “It’s for the best,” she says in a low undertone.
I bow my head and close the door, avoiding her gaze, though my wolf appears in my vision and snaps at her. He wants to take a bite out of her arrogant nose.
I give myself a minute to calm down as the women go up the sidewalk and inside the shop. All I have to do is secure the store. That’s it. Elena’s just bait. We’re just luring the psycho in. He won’t make it past the parking lot. Once Black gets here, he’s going to rip the fucker’s throat out.
Though I’m trying to comfort myself and calm down, I find myself disappointed. I’ll have no shot. No chance at revenge.
I never thought I’d be a guy who wanted that sort of thing.
But I’ve never been blown up before … So, there’s that.
My wolf paces anxiously. But he’s not shouldering the same kind of anxiety I am. He’s got hunter’s anxiety, eager for his prey to show.
