Page 82 of Cruel Revenge
“Drive safe, everyone. See you in Houston,” Davor said, then killed the conference call.
My phone buzzed a few seconds later, and I braked, pulling over onto the shoulder. I hit my warning lights, just in case, and looked at the email, ignoring the text with the address to meet the werewolves entirely. Most of it was just slightly more detailed versions of what he’d said, pictures from the SUVs, and the one I ripped the door off lingered in my mind. There wasnow blood all over the back seats that BSA made sure to picture as evidence.
The blood made my stomach churn as I found it difficult to look away, moving on to the next. My breathing grew heavy as it lingered in my mind, knowing it was probably not one of the witch’s.
I kept going and saw what I wanted.
The BSA had gotten a satellite image of the area where the truck had gone. Davor included a list of addresses the BSA had already preprepared warrants for, all in that area, all potentially holding Carey.
The hand holding the phone began to shake. It didn’t feel like mine anymore.
A list.
She could be there. She has to be there.
My ears started ringing as I fought the increasingly dangerous urge to just do what I wanted.
I dropped the phone for a moment and tried to curl my hands to fight the claws beginning to show. I took several deep breaths, but they didn’t help this time.
I’d go to hell for her. If it meant staying there while she walked free, I would.
Her screaming and fighting not to be taken. My fury and pain as I watched it happen. Her lying off the side of the road. Her soft voice. The blood in the SUV, vivid enough that I could imagine the smell.
I growled, hitting my steering wheel hard enough to bend it.
I could go get her. I could just go get her.
My worry. My love for her. It was all working against me now.
I have to know she’s okay.
The urge grew unbearable.
I just need to get to her.
I’m going to get to her.
With that thought, letting the claws out, I reached something else beyond panic.
A terrible sense of clarity.
I didn’t needcontrol. I just needed to know she was okay. I needed to know she was alive.
Without thinking, I punched an address into my GPS. I turned off my phone.
I started driving.
I understood how werecats could start wars without thinking over the wrong person close to being killed, having threatened the same thing myself.
I understood the madness of Hasan’s grief over losing Liza as I considered what I was going to do to the witches who took Carey.
With clarity, I understood the fatal flaw of the werecats.
I knew I was no longer making sane decisions.
And to save her, I embraced the insanity.
Even if I lost myself in the process.
