Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(90)

“Seeing you and Trick together will have made him face that Trick isn’t gay, which means he also had to face that you’re able to give Trick something he can’t ever give him—not unless he’s interested in a sex change, anyway.”

Frankie stumbled to a halt as it hit her. Like a slap across the face. All this time, she hadn’t seen it. Not even once.

“What?” asked Lydia.

“You’re right. He probably hates me. He had it in his head, despite what the facts suggested, that he’d have Trick one day. Because of me, it’ll never happen. But he also truly believes that Trick is gay. In Rio’s head, I somehow duped Trick. I’m the bad guy.” And just the same way, her mother had been the bad guy, she now realized.

“Pretty much, yeah. Honey, you’ve gone very pale. Is something—oh my God.” She grabbed Frankie’s arm, pulling her to an abrupt stop.

“What?” She tracked Lydia’s gaze. “What the fuck?” On the floor someone had drawn a large pentagram. It was surrounded by candles and symbols. Worse, there was a huge reddish-brown stain that was quite clearly old blood.

“Oh my Jesus.” Lydia put a hand to her chest. “It was probably just kids being stupid, fooling around and thinking they could summon spirits or demons. Right?”

“That’s blood, Lydia. Look at what’s in the center of the pentagram.” Even though it was peppered with dust, Frankie could see it easily enough.

Lydia drew back, her heart now pounding as fast as Frankie’s. “That’s a photo of Christopher.” Her fingers dug into Frankie’s arm as she asked, “Do you think kids were trying to invoke his spirit or something weird like that?”

“I think someone wanted to talk to him.” Someone crazy enough to not only sacrifice a living creature but think that it would actually work. She jumped as the phone in her pocket rang. Taking a shaky breath, Frankie fished it out of her pocket. “It’s Trick.” She answered, “Hello.”

“Baby, what’s wrong? I can feel your anxiety. What is it?”

She licked her lower lip. “Well, I’m at the old cabin.”

He sighed. “Frankie, you shouldn’t have gone there without me. Look, I’m on my way to you now, okay—there was no sign of Morelli at the landfill. Just go back to Iris’s house and wait for me.”

A board creaked over their heads. And another. And another. Her gut dropped. “Someone’s here.”

“Probably Marcus or Roni,” said Lydia.

“I don’t think so,” she said as another board softly creaked. Because the person above them was trying very hard to be quiet, like they hoped to sneak up on her. “I know who killed my parents.”

“What?” both he and Lydia demanded at once.

“I know who it was.” She listened as the footsteps crossed the floorboards, trying to determine which way the newcomer was heading. Even if she and Lydia hadn’t left footprints in the dust that broadcast their location, the shifter would be able to follow their scents. “And I think they’re here.”

Trick swore. “I’ll be fifteen minutes at most. Go back to Iris’s cabin and wait for—What the hell?” She heard the roar of metal clashing, the screech of tires, and the shattering of glass.

“Trick? Trick!” Frankie looked at her phone, shell-shocked. “The line went dead,” she told Lydia. “It sounded like the SUV crashed into something.” Her wolf completely freaked out—raged, snarled, howled, battered at Frankie to go to him.

Panic punched Frankie right in the stomach, stealing her breath. The only thing that stopped her from joining her wolf in that crazed state was that she knew he wasn’t dead; she could feel him. He was unconscious, but he was alive.

“Shit!” Lydia grabbed her arm. “We have to go now.”

The hinges squealed as the basement door opened. Frankie’s heart missed a beat, and her breaths started to come loud and quick.

Heavy footsteps creaked their way down the stairs. “I know you’re down there, Frankie.” Spoken like a taunt.

Lydia gasped as the male reached the bottom step. “Cruz?”

He grinned at her. “That would be me.” His gaze cut to Frankie. “You don’t look so surprised to see me.”

Frankie swallowed. “I figured it out. Eventually.” She remembered the photo albums, remembered how Cruz had often looked at Christopher, remembered seeing photos of them standing almost intimately close. She also remembered Cruz often glaring at Brad the same way Rio had stared at Frankie. But it wasn’t Brad he’d been glaring at, she now realized. He’d been glaring at Caroline.

“You were supposed to be in bed that night,” said Cruz, as though she were the one who’d done wrong. “You weren’t supposed to hear or see anything.”

Lydia’s footsteps dragged as she shuffled backward, shaking her head in denial. But then he raised his hand and cocked the trigger of the pistol he held. Lydia froze, and every muscle in Frankie’s body went rigid. Fuck.

“Hands up where I can see them, girls. That’s good. Don’t count on your bodyguards coming to help you.” He smirked. “I paid some of the juveniles to lure them into the woods.”

That wouldn’t be enough, thought Frankie. No. Cam would feel Lydia’s anxiety, just as Trick would feel Frankie’s. Someone would come. They had to. Until then, she had to . . . what? She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. Not when she knew Trick was hurt and in danger. She needed to get to him.