Page 120 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
The instant my fingers made contact with his skin, another wave crashed over me—this time a volatile fusion of anger and hurt so potent it knocked the breath from my lungs. It was as if Rory’s pain had been injected directly into my bloodstream, flooding every nerve ending with his anguish. My vision blurred at the edges, overwhelmed by emotions that weren’t mine but feltutterly real.
“Yes!” Rory snapped.
Then his thoughts barrelled into my mind, so clear they might as well have been spoken aloud:
…of course he doesn’t believe me…
I jerked my hand back as if I’d been burned. What the fuck was happening to me? In all my years of telepathy, I’d never experienced anything remotely like this. His emotions, his very essence, seemed to be bleeding into me without any barriers.
My mind scrambled for rational explanations. Maybe exhaustion was making me more susceptible to stray thoughts. Maybe spending so much time with Rory had somehow made me more attuned to his particular mental frequency. Maybe—
…why did I even expect him to?…
The thought sliced through me like a blade. I couldn’t even attempt to block it—it would have been like trying to stop a tsunami with my bare hands.
I stumbled backwards until my spine hit the wall. The look Rory gave me in return was a knife to my gut. This really was the worst possible timing. Why couldn’t Dev have waited until morning to decide to be alive?
“Okay,” I said, attempting to inject genuine conviction into my voice. “I believe you, of course.”
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was too late. The damage was done, written clearly across Rory’s face in the disappointed set of his shoulders, the way his eyes had shuttered against me.
…yeah, right…sure you do…
“Did you see which way he went?”
“No, he disappeared when I blinked.”
I bit back my question about why the fuck he didn’t knock on the door, if he had indeed seen Rory. “Okay…”
I stood there, chest heaving, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was I reacting like this because I’d been so certain Dev was dead? In my line of work, missing persons cases rarely ended with happyreunions. The statistics were grim after forty-eight hours. I’d prepared myself for identifying a body up here.
Or… was I having this reaction because the idea of the ex that Rory adored being alive meant—
No.I couldn’t think about that right now.
I forced myself to focus as Rory yanked his shirt over his head with jerky, frantic movements. The determined set of his jaw told me everything I needed to know—he was about to charge out into the Highland night like a knight in shining armour.
“Rory, wait—”
But he was already pulling on his jeans, hopping on one foot as he struggled with the fabric. Christ, he was actually going to do it. Going to sprint out there in pursuit of what might have been a shadow, a trick of moonlight, or another member of his family who wanted to hurt him.
I grabbed my own clothes from the floor, cursing under my breath.
“Didn’t you say your family has CCTV all over their property?” I managed, fumbling with my belt buckle as I tried to catch up with his frenzied dressing.
Rory stopped mid-motion, one arm through his jacket sleeve.
“Yes!” His face lit up with sudden brightness. He slipped his phone from his pocket, fingers flying across the screen. “I’ll ring Felix.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least this bought us some time, some actual evidence before Rory went tearing off into the darkness.
Felix’s phone rang once, then twice. Disappointment threaded through me when I realised he might very well be in mid-air currently—who knew what time their flight had ended up being?
“Felix!” Rory’s voice carried a note of desperate relief.
“Rory? What’s—”
“We need you to check the CCTV cameras around my family’s estate. Now. It’s urgent.”
