The woman writhed against Ria’s grasp. “Who the hell—”
“Move, and I’ll slit your throat,” Ria snapped. “Eric. Where is he?”
She glanced at me, wide brown eyes the size of moons. “I don’t kn—”
“This is his house, and you’re in it.” She wedged the knife in closer, sending a bead of red down the metal. The woman squealed, and a weep followed. “Lie to me again, bitch. I dare y—”
“I don’t know! I swear I don’t!” she sobbed. “He left yesterday. I-I-I don’t know where he is. Please don’t kill me. Please—I didn’t do anything!”
“Whose car is that?” I asked before Ria could speak again. “The one up front with the Florida plates, whose is that?”
“Mine,” she barely made out. “It’s-it’s mine.”
“Did you know Eric abducted a sex worker in that car two weeks ago?”
Her sobs ceased, eyes shooting open. “What?”
“How well do you know him?” I asked. “Because I get the feeling you know a lot less about him than you think.”
Her breathing became erratic, scent of cortisol wafting from her skin. “We-we’ve been dating for a few months. I-I didn’t—we just moved in together a month ago. He-he’s been good to me, and I didn’t—” A sob cut her off, and she shook her head quickly. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t.”
“Can we take a look around?” I glanced inside. “Would that be alright?”
* * *
She let us in and hyperventilated on the sofa as I tore Eric’s house apart. While I searched, Ria cast a spell to be certain she didn’t know where he was.
There wasn’t much to find. It was a small, two-bedroom trailer with no basement and no attic. Wherever he was keeping them, it wasn’t here.
But when I walked past the bathroom, a scent touched my nose. Iron and the scent I’d smelled from the Ziploc bag Brooke had handed me the night we met. It wafted from the hamper in the corner.
Digging through it, the smell only intensified. Sure enough, at the bottom of the plastic bin was a black T-shirt.
I lifted it up and sniffed a moment longer. It wasn’t soiled, and that was promising. Only a few indistinguishable drops had tainted the fabric, virtually invisible to anyone who couldn’t smell it.
That should have given me hope. It could mean that he’d only fed off of Misty. If he’d eaten her, there’d be a hell of a lot more blood.
But it could mean the opposite. He could’ve lost control while he was paying for her services, devoured her in wolf form, and thrown on a spare shirt to clean up his mess.
I didn’t know, but what I’d hoped would lead me straight to Brooke only brought me to an absolute answer. Eric was certainly who’d taken Misty, and he had to have been the same person that abducted Brooke.
The realization was both assuring and terrifying because there was only one reason he would’ve taken her.
If she weren’t around, no one would be looking for Misty.
She hadn’t teleported home, and if she were conscious, she would have. I hadn’t felt any pain, but if she were unconscious, I wouldn’t have, just as she hadn’t felt the surgeries they’d done to mend my gunshot wound. I hadn’t heard her thoughts since last night.
Wherever she was, I didn’t know how to find her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
DECLAN
Driving to Brooke’s at speeds that gave me palpitations, under my breath, rubbing my jaw, I murmured, “I don’t know what to do next.”
“Because you’re stupid,” Ria said.
I furrowed my brows. “Fuck you too.”