Page 43 of Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven
His behaviorhas me picking up my phone, dialing Raven's number. It goes straight to voicemail, so I dial Presley.
I saved her number just in case I couldn’t reach Raven.
She answers with a sleepy voice. “Hello?”
“Is Raven there?” I rush out.
“Professor?” I can hear rustling. “I’m pretty sure she’s asleep.”
“I need you to check, Presley. Please.” I squeeze the phone and motion to Declan.
“She’s not in her room.” Presley calls out for Raven. “She’s not here.”
Shit. “Lock the doors, Presley.”
I hang up as Declan picks up the painting.
I turn to Hendrix who’s making a sandwich. “I want surveillance pulled from the gala.”
“Where are you going?” Declan calls.
“Raven’s in trouble.”
Chapter thirty-one
Raven
Iwas angry. Fuming that he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I felt slightly guilty about what I insinuated to Locke. Declan would never cross a line like that, and it was unfair of me to act as if he did. I was being petty, and most of the time I could live with being petty, but something about Locke twisted my heart and made that organ weak. There was no mistaking the murderous look in his eyes and call it a gut feeling, but I had a dull sensation in my stomach. He wouldn’t actually hurt Declan? Would he?
Yanking on the long sleeve shirt in my hand, I tug on some leggings and then my sneakers before I dart out of the building. When I make it to the exit, I see a man I had seen sitting at the table with Locke at the gala. He still wore his suit and had his phone to his ear as he walked along the sidewalk.
“There’s a breach at The Brew House. Back door. I need you there,” he barks the words with authority. “Locke needs me here.”
He pauses then leans his head back. “I don’t give a shit what Frankie says. Go.”
While his back is to me, I take the moment to slip out of the door and around the building before he turns back around.
My fingers flex along the steering wheel as I drive down the winding road to Locke’s estate, a low song on the radio.Humming along, I unwrap a peppermint. They’ve always soothed me when I was anxious. It probably started when I was a child and carried on into adult hood. There was no way to survive my household without some sort of addiction. At least peppermints were cheap and didn't make me fail a drug test.
The sour taste in my mouth from my earlier words doesn’t dissolve away like I had hoped, but I keep driving, not liking how we left things. Unresolved. Unanswered.
I had just made a left turn when something shot out in front of my car. I scream, swerving to the right to avoid a collision. My front tire meets the ditch and my head bashes against the steering wheel. With a groan, I lift my head, noticing the smoke bellowing out from the front of my car. Opening my door, I step out, checking to see if I hit an animal. Maybe a deer? I can’t tell. My left tire is blown, along with my bumper.Perfect.
My phone. I need to call Locke. Reaching into my sports bra, I pull it out, tapping the black screen.It’s dead. Fitting.I freeze when I hear a low growl from the woods beyond my car. I scan the trees once, then back, stopping on a pair of glowing green eyes.
Oh no.
The growl sounds again as a massive black wolf emerges from the shadows. My muscles clench and my heart sinks. The low growl filters out again and the only thing screaming in my head is one word.
Run.
Taking a step back, I turn, then dash across the street to the wooded forest. I was sure this backed up to Locke’s place and if I could just make it to the house, I would be safe. I’m not sure what part of me thought I could outrun a freaking wolf, but maybe he didn’t want to chase me. Maybe he was just irked that I was in his territory. Or the fact I almost killed him.
My feet carry me across the fallen leaves and broken branches. I run. Like my life depends on it. I can hear the rustle behind me, and a low growl accompanied with a sharp bark. My foot snags on a tree root when I launch myself forward, and I tumble to the ground. My face scratches against the dirt, the earth gashing against my cheek.
I gasp, flipping over to suck in a breath. That’s when I see it. The prowling black beast. His teeth bared, saliva dripping, and eyes that show he’s aiming to kill.
My fingers grip the dirt breath me as he takes three steps, before crouching down to attack. This is it. I survived twenty-one years living with Arthur Cunningham, now I’m going to get taken out by a rabid wolf. A scream leaves my throat as he lunges, but he doesn’t make it to me. A wolf with golden fur collides with him midair, sinking his teeth into the black wolf’s throat.
