Page 32 of Tainted King

“Maybe it’s a good thing she took the decision out of your hands, then.”

My blood froze in my veins. “What do you mean?”

“She left this afternoon.”

The glass in my hand exploded, the shards cutting my skin. The pain didn’t register. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

“It’s for the best.”

“For who? You? The business?”

“For you, son. You need to let her go. Maybe in a year you can revisit this.”

He sounded so clinical about it. I always thought out of all my siblings, I was the most similar to Dad. But maybe I’d been wrong.

Without a second thought, I left, ignoring Dad’s calls for me to stop. Blood dripped on the white tiles, but I ignored it, the need to get answers too great. And I knew who would have them.

* * *

I burst into Freya’s bedroom, the door smacking against the wall. She watched me with an open mouth as I tore through her space. “Where is she?”

Freya narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d gotten up from where she’d been sitting on the floor, sorting through photos. “You don’t get to rush into my room. What if I was in here with Gunner?”

I cringed at the thought, but I’d known Gunner wasn’t here. I made a point to know everyone’s movements. Except Quinn had slipped through undetected. Someone’s head would roll for that one.

A finger poked my chest, and I frowned at my sister. “And who are you talking about?”

Freya usually got away with a lot. I loved her. She was my baby sister, and I did everything I could to make sure she was safe and happy. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All I could think about was Quinn leaving. I wasn’t ready. It was too early. I needed more time.

“Quinn. Where is she?” I repeated, enunciating each word.

Freya frowned, taken aback. “She went home.”

Rage overtook all my senses, and with a roar, I swiped everything off her desk. Papers, her laptop, and pens went flying.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she shrieked, pushing me. I didn’t even register her hits, images of Quinn’s lifeless body burning themselves into my brain. She wasn’t safe out on her own.

Holding Freya’s hands, I fought back control. “If anything happens to her, it’s on you for not telling me what was going on.”

Rolling her eyes, she pointedly looked at the mess on the floor. “Nothing will happen to her. Gunner made sure her apartment is locked up tighter than a bank, and he has cameras all over the building.”

I was still breathing hard, but at least the red haze was slowly receding. “Whoever is trying to hurt us found out about her. She’s in danger on her own.”

Freya threw her arms up. “Nobody’s ever gone after friends. Only family and people we’re involved with. Why would they go after Quinn?”

She faltered on the last words, her eyes taking me in. “Don’t tell me she falls into the latter category.”

I turned around, pulling my phone out. I had to get to San Francisco. Now. Nothing else mattered.

“Liam,” Freya called after me. “What the hell have you done?”

Nothing yet. But I intended to change that.

* * *

The low hum of the plane usually calmed me, but tonight, all it did was remind me that I was still in the air instead of in San Francisco. The scotch did nothing to distract from the throbbing in my hand. I’d pulled out the glass that had been stuck in my palm, causing it to bleed again, and had strapped it up with one of the many first-aid kits we had stashed everywhere.

It probably needed stitches, but that would mean a delay getting to Quinn, and that was unacceptable.

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