They both fall silent. I’m not sure if that’s because they agree or they just don’t want to piss me off more than I already am.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to focus, to think of anything that might help us.
Italians aside after what went down this afternoon, who would want her? No one knows who she is. Do they?
* * *
The guys order some food, and we just sit and wait.
I fucking hate it. I could go out and search. But we’re in London; where the fuck would I even start?
I need to be smart. I need to wait for news from Damien. Hell, even Galen, because if that motherfucker knows something and doesn’t tell us, I’ll make sure he never has the chance to put her in harm’s way again.
I don’t eat any of the food the guys order. I don’t even leave my room. Instead I just lie there with my phone on my chest, waiting.
I’ve called Toby, but just like Theo, it rang off to voicemail. I’ve left enough messages for him to know that he really fucking needs to call me back. But he never does.
I have no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but there’s no fucking way it can be more important than finding our princess.
It’s late when my phone finally lights up my dark room.
I jump up so fast the fucking thing goes skidding across the floor and shoots straight under my chest of drawers.
“Motherfucking…”
Dropping to my hands and knees, I reach under for it.
Theo and Alex went out a few hours ago, joining Nico in the search for Italian intel.
I wanted to go with them, to do something to help, but they insisted I stay here in case Toby, Galen or even Stella got in touch.
I felt useless, but I got it.
Once my previous anger had ebbed away a little, I knew I needed to keep a clear head and be ready to move, to get to her.
My heart jumps into my throat as I unlock my phone to find a text from an unknown number.
My hand trembles as I open it. But that’s nothing compared to my reaction to the photo that appears before my eyes.
My stomach turns and I have to fight not to vomit over Theo’s carpet.
“Hellion,” I breathe, staring down at her curled up, lifeless body. Her white shirt is red. Red with… “Fuck. FUCK.” I bellow, scrambling to my feet to find my trainers.
One glance at that photo and I knew exactly where she was.
Why was an entirely different question. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this wasn’t Galen’s fault at all but everything to do with me.
Why else would they leave her in a place only I would recognise instantly?
I don’t remember the drive there.
I don’t stop to question it any more as I run from my car.
I don’t even stop the engine or close the door as I fly through the entrance to the graveyard.
“Stella,” I call, despite the fact that she probably can’t hear anything I’m saying.
The blood that was so obvious in the photo is even more shocking in reality as I spot her curled up between my father and sister’s graves.
“Ambulance,” I bark into my phone the second it connects. I rattle off our location and give the guy on the other end as much detail as I have before falling to my knees beside her and dropping my phone to the ground.
I should have made the call on my way over, but all I could think about was getting to her.
“Baby,” I breathe, pushing her hair from her face.
My breath catches at how pale she is. I tell myself it’s because we’re illuminated by only the moonlight, but it’s more than that.
Pressing my finger to the pulse point in her neck, I pray to any fucking deity who might listen as the faint sound of sirens builds in the distance.
“It’s going to be okay, baby,” I whisper. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”