Page 44 of The Hunted
The knot in my stomach that had formed when I laid eyes on Wyman’s picture loosened. I’d been worried I’d fucked up. Before we left the base, Webb and Tripp speculated that my powers hadn’t been as strong five years before, given how I’d been learning and developing them.
I didn’t compel like normal vampires. Alia Costner had taught Jo and me how to cast magic spells made up of a series of numbers to compel someone. With the right combinations of numbers, we could spark different spells to get a person to do what we wanted or take away their voice like I’d done with Rianne. Regardless of my strengths or lack thereof, the spells could be reversed by someone who practiced magic, like Alia Costner.
I quietly exhaled, studying Wyman like a science project. I didn’t get any vibes that he was lying as his pulse ramped down. Or he was good at telling lies. “So you mentioned two years ago. Have you been watching me that long? And what were you planning on doing with me?” I clenched my teeth.
He puffed out his chest, a smug grin emerging as though he was growing some balls. “To turn you into the CIA.” Okay, he grew some balls in a matter of minutes, and I had to hand it to him. He was honest.
I laughed so hard, the floor shook beneath my booted feet. “And you thought you would send three vampire hunters to capture me.”
“The Aberdeen family is the best out there to do just that,” he said.
“Obviously not,” I returned.
Tripp skirted around me and into the kitchen, eyeing the pile of folders on the island that separated Tripp from Wyman. “Why target Sam when you know other vampires exist?”
Wyman tracked Tripp with a keen eye as though he didn’t want Tripp to find something. “I understand that Sam is one of the most powerful of your kind.”
I clenched my teeth. “Who told you that?”
Tripp began to pick through papers and folders, and when his hand landed on a leather-bound notebook, Wyman gulped.
“Leave that alone.” Wyman's voice hitched.
“Mmm,” Tripp muttered as he flipped through the pages of the journal. “He’s detailed every place you’ve been, Sam, and Layla too. It says here that he was at the club last night. Listen to this. ‘I dropped the ladies off in front of the club, each of them clueless to who I was, but I had to keep it that way in case they fell into the hands of the vampires. I couldn’t let them know my identity until the time was right.’” He waved the journal at Wyman. “If you’re trying to stay in the shadows, why are you detailing your actions in a journal?”
Wyman paled more than he had earlier. “I keep forgetting things.”
Maybe erasing parts of his memory was having a domino effect, which boded well for us. The less he remembered, the better.
Tripp tucked the notebook into the back of his waistband.
“You can’t take that,” Wyman cried, ready to launch over the counter at Tripp. Instead, he ran by me, but I blocked him.
He pushed me. “Get out of my way.”
I didn’t budge as I glared down at the short man. “You dare to tell me what to do?” I gripped his throat.
His face glowed red as he narrowed his eyes. As much as I would like to toss him through the film-covered window, we needed more answers from him. Not to mention, he’d just threatened me with the CIA. They were the last organization we wanted in our business.
I loosened my grip. “Now answer my question. Who told you I was the most powerful?”
“Layla’s dad,” he squeaked out.
I unleashed him from my grasp. That clarified how Wyman knew Layla.
He gagged, inhaling the stale air as he made a run for the door.
I laughed. “Humans.”
Tripp collected the laptop and files. “Bring the van,” he said into his earpiece.
I could chase Wyman, but Ben was at the front entrance, and Olivia was guarding the back.
“Ben,” I said into my comm. “The target is coming your way.”
“Check the bedroom,” Tripp ordered. “Let’s make sure we don’t leave anything behind.”
“You know he probably has a backup of that laptop,” I said as I went into the bedroom.
