Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(71)

“Did you hurt Violet?” Vance asks quickly, back on the line.

“By some miracle, no,” I answer quietly, my eyes back on the girl who left an entire room in bloody ruins in less than five minutes. “I’ll call you back when I know where I am. The first two wolves won’t be hard to find. I’m sure there’s fresh blood on them, but remember to keep them alive. Happy hunting, Van Helsing.”

I have no idea how they’re going to react to this new information, so I decide it’s best to keep it to myself. For now. At least until I’ve convinced myself of what’s going on before I start convincing them.

Looking back at the carnage, it’s possible my wolf—fully unleashed—could do just as much damage…if it had more time than she did.

“Anna was wrong. Buffy would so not kick your ass,” I hear a girl saying, and I glance over to see the triplet ghosts and one male.

I snarl at them, stepping closer, needing them to forget what they saw as I clutch the phone in my hand.

They all take a wary step back from her.

“If anyone learns of this, you’ll all be tortured piles of salt by the time I’m finished with you. Understand?”

The guy smirks like he’s won a prize before he disappears. The triplets give a quick nod and also vanish.

Violet is still unresponsive, talking on autopilot, muttering things her mother told her to never do.

I lean over and lift her up from the ground.

Her arms limply and reflexively move to my neck again, and her wet, blood-matted hair drops to my shoulder.

“The omegas will get you cleaned up,” I say softly. “And then you’re staying with me.”

I start carrying her into the woods, following the scent of the one runner I worry will speak. The other two will die in silence and fear.

“Then you can tell me how you’re even possible, when I can’t mistake the scent of Portocale blood,” I say to the paradox who goes completely limp in my arms.





Chapter 26





DAMIEN


“How is she?” Arion asks over the phone, as I lie on my bed next to her, taking in every feature as she sleeps.

“She’s still sleeping,” I say as I stare down at the halo of dark hair swirled on my pillow. “The omegas finished cleaning her up, and we’re all at my house. Emit says he’s collecting her when he returns.”

Her neck has a small red mark on it, like she was strangled or something, but the mark is fading really fast for such a fragile girl. Her fragility has become a joke at this point.

“She may not ever be right again if she saw this happening with her own eyes,” Arion states very quietly.

“That bad?” I muse, hating him more than ever right now.

“I’m finding it hard to believe Emit stepped up and did this—it smells like something I’d leave behind. And I can only get so close because Vance is making me stay downwind of the wolves he has assembling. I can’t help but wonder if it looks anything like the picture the stench of blood is painting.”

My phone chimes, and I look down. I’m too old to be disturbed by anything, but I’m also wiser. If I’m right, this is only the beginning of what is sure to be a brand new, horrible era of Idun.

I almost snarl at the girl I once obsessed over.

“How did you manage to do this?” I ask quietly as I stare down at the enigma.

She’s too good of an actress if this has all been a play. Idun’s not a patient woman, so it figures she slipped and tried to get me first, expecting one mind-blowing night of pure, unadulterated, exhausting pleasure would get me right on board like the good puppy she always wanted me to be.

It’d be considered crafty, if I was still young and stupid. It’s nothing more than insulting when I’m not.

Arion says nothing for several long minutes, and I half wonder if he’s even still on the line.

“Shera is on her way to take over,” he notifies me.

“I’m not leaving,” I counter, moving over on the bed when Violet makes a soft whimper.

Unconsciously, she moves into my touch when I push her still damp hair out of her face. They spent a lot of time cleaning off the blood and cement. I’m going to be here to ask her questions when she wakes and find out exactly what’s going on.

“The missing wolves have been rounded up, and I’m not privy to their current location. Emit just keeps bloody staring at the doors that conceal crime scene like he’s either feeling guilt or just thinking. Out of the two, which sounds more like Emit?” he asks very quietly.

“His wolves have gotten vicious,” I say like I’m playing along with him. “One could blame you for this.”

I leave that vague remark in there. Emit was triggered by dear sweet Violet. Shocker. Now he’s tearing apart wolves like never before.

“Or you could blame him for letting them get so out of—”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?” Emit snaps.

Violet—as I decide to continue calling her before cementing my decision—mutters something I miss, as she turns over in the bed and begins to snore softly.

Lemon pops her head inside the room, opening the door up just a crack.

“There’s a vampire bitch here. I’d kick her ass, but my instincts make me a runner, not a fighter,” she states very seriously.