Page 112 of Wicked Devotion
“Sam, I can’t go off of your fucking grunts. I need proper information,” Logan barks, and Sam turns his phone around so we can see the screen.
He points at Ruby’s phone, which is lying beside her on the couch.
“I’m calling her right now. It should light up, ring, vibrate, anything. But nothing is happening.”
The implications are crystal clear, but hearing Sam put the thought into words makes bile rise in my throat.
“Someone messed with the cameras.”
“Sam, you call Rockwell. I’ll go find Charlie. Logan—“
But Logan is already busy with his phone, waiting for someone to pick up.
“Helo,” he mouths, and Sam and I take off in a sprint.
An hourand ten screaming matches later, Sam, Logan, and I are sitting aboard the helo Red organized for us. He had to call in a good amount of favors, and the only pilot he seemed to get a hold of on such short notice is a guy who is even crankier than we are.
While we waited for him to arrive, we informed Rockwell about the situation and about our departure. He had made it clear that this has turned into a family matter and that family stands above everything.
Above our duty, and certainly above an asshole like Sanders.
Rockwell and Charlie decided to stay on base for now to dodge possible questions and to make use of one of Charlie’s friends, who works as a surveillance operator.
Still, we all hope we won’t need her. That the thing withthe cameras is just some weird glitch, that we’ll open the door to see Ruby and Lily sitting on the couch, or the damn terrace, where we’ll give them a loud and stern lecture about the proper way to deal with phone calls.
With every mile we get closer to Ruby’s house, my heart beats a bit faster, and when we land in her neighbor’s garden, I’m worried it’s going to jump out of my throat soon.
We climb over the fence separating the properties, running over to Ruby’s front door.
It’s closed, but as Sam shoves his key into the lock, it gives with one turn. Next to me, Logan curses. Ruby always locks the door behind herself.Always. So it was either Lily who left the door unlocked, or the other option I still refuse to think about.
The house is dead quiet as we enter, a breeze pushing the curtains in through the open patio doors.
“Do you smell that?” I ask, turning to Logan, who’s already taking quick steps toward Lily’s bedroom.
“Like someone pissed in a fucking corner,” he replies.
But there aren’t any puddles to be seen, and neither are Lily and Ruby. It’s like they just went out for a walk—and vanished.
When Sam comes back from his and Ruby’s bedroom, holding a teal leash and the matching collar in his hand and his face whiter than I’ve ever seen it, my stomach clenches.
“Ryves, is your wife cooking meth in here?” Logan yells back to us from the other bedroom. “The housereeks.”
“Does my wife smell like fucking meth to you, you asshole?” Sam says so loud I don’t hear the faint barking at first.
Logan comes back to the kitchen, two phones in hand, and I lift my finger to silence both men before he speaks up.
“Quiet, I heard something.”
I follow the sound to the hallway that leads to the masterbedroom, where my gaze lands on fresh scratches on the hardwood flooring. Sam shoves me out of the way, throwing the contents of the built-in bookshelf onto the floor until he finds a security pad.
Hectic, he slams his fingers against the buttons, and after what feels like an eternity, a click resounds, and the door to their panic room opens.
For a moment, I’m sure we’ll find our girls in there. Hope washes over me, and it turns into a current that pulls me under as I see the empty room instead.
Slowly, an anxious Mochi comes out of her hiding place behind a small table, her tail tucked in so hard you’d think she doesn’t have one.
She nudges Sam’s thigh with her nose, and he bows down to scratch her chest, swallowing thickly when faint red streaks cover his fingers.
