Page 79 of Midnight Queen

Her dramatics were convincing enough to trick my guards, and by the time they discovered she was lying about the gunman, she was gone. Along with the vehicle.

Duke’s phone call solidifies my decision; after tonight, I’m no longer going to own a phone. Each time the fucker rings, I get bad news.

The last time Quincey went missing, I was overwhelmed with an immeasurable amount of helplessness, but this time is different.This time I’m prepared because I anticipated something like this happening.

I don’t allow myself to be incapacitated by the news because I know where she is.Or at least I know where the necklace is.

The gift had two purposes, but one was more important than the other. While I liked the idea of her wearing something that represented her namesake, the tracker the jeweler had implanted in the pendant was my main reason for giving it to her. There’s a reason the clasp can only be opened with a key—I needed to be sure that it could never be taken off her neck. I needed to know that I couldalwaysfind her.

It was a decision I made from fear of losing her again, but now, as I stare at the red dot on the GPS, I know my fear was valid.

Fear is an emotion I went centuries without feeling, but since Quincey danced into my life, it’s one I find myself feeling frequently. It’s the kind of fear that wraps around you and squeezes you so tightly you can’t breathe without it hurting.

“Stop the car,” I order Lorcan. “This is close enough.”

Leaving the vehicle in the middle of a one-way road on a busy Bourbon Street is bound to cause a lot of problems for people, but at this time, it’s not my problem. Getting to Quincey is.

I’m still unsure why Quincey escaped the guards, but I know with certainty it has something to do with Lucy. Quincey’s last phone call was with her friend, and now the necklace is transmitting from St. Sin.

Lorcan keeps pace with me as I sprint down the crowded sidewalk. Until this point, I wasn't convinced that Lorcan possessed the capacity to care about another being. His motives in life have always been sexually or monetarily driven. The look of concern on his face proves that Quincey is special and can make even the twisted of souls care for her.

The club that is usually lively and bustling with people is quiet and dark. But the scent of blood seeping out from the structure is so strong, I taste it on my tongue.

Lorcan looks at me, but I shake my head. “It’s not Quincey’s. There’s a door around—”

The panicked scream calling out Quincey’s name has the sentence dying on my lips. Cold fear snakes down my spine and dread pools in my stomach.

Refusing to waste precious time by running to the back door, I crash through the blacked-out window. The glass shatters around me, falling to the ground in sharp shards.

My feet land inside the building just in time to watch Rowena’s blade sink into Quincey’s chest.

Powder-blue eyes lock on mine as her body jolts. A choked gasp comes from her lips and blood begins to blossom around the hilt of the dagger, soaking her already stained shirt.

Lucy tries to get free of the man holding her, but she’s powerless against him. Fat tears fall down her face, and she repeats Quincey’s name over and over again.

I want to go to her, but I need to eliminate the woman standing between us first.

There will be no long, drawn-out death for her, or the glass box. No, she will die here. The idea of spilling Rowena’s blood has my monster side growing excited. With each passing second, the chains on my control are snapping until my chest begins to vibrate with untouched power.

Rowena’s wicked smile grows on her face when she looks at me over her shoulder. “It’s a shame, isn’t it, having to mourn the things you wanted but could never truly have?” With a harsh yank, she pulls the dagger from Quincey’s chest. “Long live the queen,” she snarls.

“No!” I thunder.

With the blade still embedded in her, it was slowing down the bleeding, but with Rowena removing it, the wound now bleeds freely.

Quincey’s shaking fingers probe at the wound and when her hands come back bloody, her knees give out and she crashes to the ground.

“Lorcan!” I don’t have to elaborate further. He knows what I’m ordering. He charges toward them with his fangs bared in fury. The man holding Lucy tosses her to the side and boldly matches Lor’s attack with one of his own. They clash together, but I don’t watch what happens next.

My attention turns to my own prey.

With a violent roar, I rush at Rowena. She’s quick and able to dodge my arm when I reach out for her. I expect her to turn and fight me, but instead, she attempts to escape through the broken window. This action proves what I already know about her—she’s a coward. That’s why she prefers to work in the dark corners of our world. She talks a big game about wanting eyes on her, but the second she’s faced with true confrontation, she flees instead of fights.

Catching up to her, I grab hold of her long red hair and pull her back by it so hard she flies across the room. Her body crashes into the ceiling-high glass shelving of the bar. The bottles and glassware smash to the ground with her.

I’m standing over top of her before she has a chance to stand to her feet.

Drenched head to toe in various liquors, her wet hair sticks to her skin when I yank her to her knees. Her fingernails claw at the hand that holds her in place while my free hand scoops up one of the half-broken bottles from the ground.

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