Page 68 of The Hitch
I feel like my heart stops. The knowledge that I'm pregnant seems to flit in and out of my mind, like it's not even a real thing. Just a concept that might apply to me. After my massive freak-out, I'm chalking it up to the stress of being kidnapped and imprisoned. Again.
"I hope… I hope I do. And I hope you stick around. They'll need badass Auntie Helena to watch out for them and teach them how to shoot better than Momma ever could."
"You can't get rid of me that easy, babe."
Dante
Emptiness. The endless void stares back at me behind my eyelids. The house is silent and cold, impersonal. The warmth and sass that Melody brought me is gone, and I fucking hate it. Sleep eludes me, unless I take a handful of melatonin and top it off with some antihistamines. Even now, toeing the line between wakefulness and sleep, I clutch at the empty side of the bed.
Melody's side.
Melody's side of the bed is a cold, stark reminder that my list of kills is far too short. Four days without her, and I'm a wreck. I cycle between morose and immovable to the physical embodiment of murderous fury. Roman stalks the halls of the house, barking orders and demanding updates from every possible resource we could pull together. He only leaves when I command him to.
"I don't think you should be alone right now," he said.
"Is you being here going to get her back? Right this second? No!" I yelled back.
He took his leave for the night shortly after. I crack an eye open to check the time and groan. He'll be back in a few hours, bright and early. We've summoned the entire Goetic Consortium from all over the globe, and I need to be well-rested and alert to brief them. If I'm not? Well, I hope they see what a broken man I am and take action on that.
My position as The Dantalion be damned—I need help. I need my wife back. And I need to strangle every last fucker who's taken her away from me.
Just as sleep starts to take hold, I'm jolted awake by the persistent vibration of my phone. Roman's contact photo flashes across the screen, and I nearly drop the damn thing trying to answer it.
"Roman?"
"Sir? There's news. One of our men found an abandoned property in the foothills that belongs to Rafaella." Roman's voice is muffled and a bit scratchy, like he also just woke up.
"I'm ready," I say as I leap out of bed and rustle through my clothes. "Can you be here in five?"
"I'll be there in three."Click.
I throw on anything that's black, anything that will blend in with the shadows of night. Sprinting down the stairs, I secure my bulletproof vest and snatch the semiautomatic rifle from thecoat closet. Shit. The magazine is empty. I curse myself as I run to the pantry and shove aside a sack of potatoes, unveiling the ammo stockpile Roman set up for me.
"Roman deserves a raise," I mumble to myself as I find the tactical backpack he stuffed in the lockbox as well. I take every last box of ammo and dump it into the backpack. Just as I zip the flap, I hear the muffled honk of Roman's SUV outside.
Slamming open the front door, I race to the car like a bat out of hell. I don't give a shit that the house isn't properly locked. I don't give a shit aboutanything, except that I might—no, will—have my wife back.I'm coming to get you, Melody.
Roman doesn't say a word as I slam shut the SUV's door; he simply shifts the car into drive and peels off down the street. He looks about as bad as I do. His dark brown hair has grown out from his usual buzz cut, but it doesn't soften the sharp angles of his intimidating face. He only looks unhinged and unkempt. I know I do, too.
Glaring out the window, I notice that there's barely anyone on the road at this hour. He weaves through long-haul trucks and sedans that likely belong to the poor bastards who work the graveyard shift.
"How far?" I grunt out, drumming my fingers on my knees.
"About an hour. We'll be there in half that." He presses his foot down on the accelerator, revving the engine as we pass another semi.
"Good. Backup?"
"En route. I've stationed one man at your house in case of anything… going awry." His jaw clenches. "We have no reason to believe that might happen. No one besides you, me, and my team knows where we're going."
"I'd expect nothing less." I run my hand down my face and scratch at the stubble on my jaw. I look like shit. Several daysof inadequate sleep and terror mixed with fury will do that to a person. Hopefully, Melody forgives me for my appearance.
"We'll get them back, sir. Melody and Helena both." Roman glances over to me and nods.
"I know we will."
True to his word, we pull up to a dilapidated shack thirty-four minutes after Roman picked me up. The algae-stained siding is cracked by years of neglect. Unkempt brush surrounds the one-story cottage. A low-hanging tree branch grazes the roof every time the wind blows, scraping against the shingles.
Roman puts a finger to his lips and gently opens the driver's door. I follow suit, making as little noise as possible. After a few seconds, three other SUVs arrive, breaking the silence. His men file out of the cars dressed identically in black with massive guns. I loaded mine on the way and I hold the weapon aloft, pointing it at the sky.
