Page 89 of Dean's Delinquent

“Unless you have titty tracker,” Sergie barks out. “Do you have?”

“No. I don’t have a fucking titty tracker. I don’t even have a phone tracker.”

“I don’t understand,” Grigori muses. “I thought you cared about the girl.”

“Yes, I fucking care about her. I just didn’t think... Please. You have to help me find her. I’ll pierce her tits, her clit, whatever I need to keep her safe.”

“Well, there’s no use worrying about that right now. Are you sure she’s gone?”

“We had plans for this evening. She wouldn’t just go and not say something.”

“Even if it’s an emergency?”

“I’d like to think not.”

“Here,” he says to Todd. Show the footage just before she left." We all stare at the screen as my heart pounds in my chest. “Stop. Right there. She looks annoyed. Who would she be annoyed with? Friends? Family?”

“Yes? Her moods shift from moment to moment. I could be her mom. It could be a teacher giving her an assignment.”

“I think we need to start looking at who might harbor some ill will towards you. Any enemies come to mind?”

My shoulders slump forward as I lower myself into a chair. “No one outside of The Society even knows what I do when I’m not the dean. And it’s hard to imagine anyone inside would even try to pull a stunt like this.”

“Imagine it. I want you to think of any and everyone.”

“Honestly, I can only think of one person right now.”

“And?”

“And I need to make a fucking phone call.”

My heart pounds in my chest as I pace the hall right outside the room. All I can do is pray it’s not them. Anyone but them. Though I don’t know why they would kidnap my submissive. But the very last thing I need is for her to end up with those fucking psychopaths.

“You better have a good reason for calling me, John,” Louis’s smooth voice growls over the line. “You’ve been far too comfortable calling me up. What do you want?”

“Do the Ravens and Wolves have my submissive?”

“What are you talking about? Has someone gone missing?”

The syrupy tone in his voice makes me ill. It’s as if all my worst fears are confirmed. “Why did you take her?”

“One,” Louis grumbles. “I don’t know who we’re talking about. Two, I don’t take kindly to unfounded accusations. Now just tell me who you can’t find, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Ashleigh Hartwell.”

The line goes silent for a moment. “Can’t say I’ve heard of her outside a few conversations.”

“What. Fucking. Conversations.”

“Seems as if your little miss busybody has been sticking her nose into Marnie’s whereabouts. Preston isn’t all too happy about that.”

Blood drains from my face as he mentions that psychopath’s name. “What did he do to her?”

“Nothing. Yet. Give me five minutes.”

Time ticks by in hours instead of seconds. My fingers tremble as rage courses through my veins. With all the ways I’ve helped them. All the things I’ve done. If they harmed even one hair on her head, I will figure out how to slaughter them all. Friends or not.

When the phone rings again, I pick it up instantly. “Where is she?”

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