Brody jerked his chin up and scowled. “She doesn’t like to be around anyone. Even Jillian and Jeremy. It physically pains her to pick up on others’ physical and emotional energy.”
Cian paced away from them and lowered his head, staring at the tips of his heavy black leather boots. He shoved his hands into his hair, pushing it away from his face as he squeezed his skull, working everything he’d just learned through his head. Christ, all this time he’d thought she was safe, surrounded by her family and friends, when he couldn’t have been more wrong. She was alone, damn it. On her own in the middle of fucking nowhere!
Rage seared its way through his veins in a thick, eviscerating spill, and he lowered his arms and fisted his hands at his sides as he turned back around and took an aggressive step toward Brody. Five years ago, he’d left a single message for his partner that read: Take care of her. But that obviously hadn’t happened.
Locking his furious gaze with Brody’s green one, he snarled, “I trusted you.”
“Yeah, I trusted you, too,” the Runner shot back, curling his upper lip. “But that didn’t stop you from running like a coward, did it?”
Cian struggled to control his temper and calm his harsh breaths, but the darkness inside him was rising, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost the fight against it. Which meant he needed to get the hell out of there. “I need directions to where she is,” he growled. “Now.”
Brody snorted and shook his head, looking at him with disgust. “It’s been five years, Cian. Why the sudden hurry?”
Before he could respond, Michaela reached into the pocket of her long skirt and pulled out a small piece of paper. “You both just need to calm down. This isn’t going to help anyone.” Offering him the paper, she said, “I already wrote the information down for you after you sent Brody that text.”
Her husband shot her a disgruntled look. “What the hell, Mic?”
She slid Brody an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but she deserves the chance to deal with this on her own.”
Cian didn’t speak as he grabbed the tiny slip of paper from Michaela’s hand. A quick glance showed that she’d written down a brief set of directions along with several names and phone numbers.
“The others will be sorry they missed you,” she told him. “They’ve taken all the kids down to the beach for two weeks in South Carolina. But we chose to stay home because Jack’s still too young for that kind of thing.”
He opened his mouth, a hundred different questions on his tongue. Jack? Kids? Exactly how many did his friends have now? What were their names, ages and genders? His curiosity was strong—but his fear for Sayre’s safety was stronger.
Snapping his mouth shut, Cian turned and headed back to the sleek sports car he’d left parked in the grass. Just as he opened the driver’s-side door, Brody grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around, getting right in his face. “What the hell are you up to, Hennessey?”
“I’m bringing her back where she belongs.”
The three thin scars that slashed across Brody’s tanned face turned white as he grimaced. “She won’t come back with you. We begged her, but she was adamant. You really think you’ll be able to change her mind after leaving like you did?”
“The difference is that I don’t plan on asking, or begging. I’m not giving her a choice,” he ground out, digging the key fob from his pocket. “I’ll tie her up and throw her over my shoulder if I have to, but one way or another, she is coming back to where it’s safe.”
The Runner’s green eyes widened with comprehension. “What aren’t you telling us?” he demanded, tightening the brutal grip he had on his shoulder.
Looking his former partner right in the eye, Cian said, “I don’t have the time to get into this, Brody. But I will explain when I get back.”
“Are we in danger?” he asked in a low voice, showing no signs of backing down.
Cian shook his head, hoping like hell that it wasn’t a lie. But he had no reason to believe that the Runners were targets. If that were the case, something would have happened a long time ago, when Cian had been one of them.
A knowing light started to burn in Brody’s eyes. “Is Sayre in danger? Is that what this is about?”
“If she is, what is it to you?” he growled, hating the way that Brody was looking at him—with years’ worth of fury and hurt and disappointment that made him feel completely worthless.
Deep voice vibrating with rage, the Runner said, “It’s important to me because I was your partner and your best friend, asshole. So that was on me. You don’t think I felt responsible when you just up and ran? I had to watch that girl deal with your betrayal while everything was falling apart for her, and felt guilty as hell for not figuring out what you were up to. Because you can bet that if I had, I would have saved her from having to deal with whatever bullshit you’ve brought down on her head now.”
Struggling to hold on to his control, he forced his response through his gritted teeth. “I don’t have time for this, man. You want to beat me down when I get back with her, then fine. Go for it. I’m sure it’s exactly what I deserve. But right now, I’ve got to go.”
“You want to leave,” Brody seethed, his towering height allowing him to go nose-to-nose with Cian, “then you tell me what’s going on. Is Sayre in danger?”
Through the thrashing of his pulse in his ears, he heard himself say, “She’s been in danger from the moment I first realized she was mine.”
“From who? You?”
“No,” he grunted, choking back the bile that rose in his throat. “From an old enemy of mine.”
“What old enemy? What the hell does that mean? Don’t we all have the same enemies?”
Jerking free of the Runner’s hold, Cian climbed into the car and slammed the door. Brody banged on the window with his fist, but he ignored him as he cranked the engine, then twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder and floored the accelerator as he reversed down the road.
He felt exactly like the asshole Brody had called him for leaving like this, knowing they were going to worry. But, damn it, he didn’t have time to waste on explanations. He needed to get to West Virginia, to the girl he’d left behind, before it was too late and he lost his chance.
Your chance to do what? Save her life? his wolf muttered. Because that’s the only thing you have a chance in hell of saving when it comes to you and her. You’ve screwed up too badly for any “second chances” with the girl. And don’t think I’m ever going to let you forget it.
He ground his back teeth together, not wanting to hear it—any of it. Then he felt something slick and cold stir to life inside him, meandering its way through his veins, and suddenly the beast’s nagging seemed the far lesser of two evils. Yeah, the wolf part of his nature might be a pain in the ass at times, but at least it was noble. Hard and vicious and animalistic, yes; but it lived its life according to a code.
Unfortunately, the wolf wasn’t the only thing living beneath his skin, and Cian wanted to claw at his heart until he could rip the blackened organ from his chest. Because that was where the “other” part of him lived. And it wasn’t noble or honest or loyal. It was nothing but hunger and rage and greed. An evil so twisted he’d always hated its existence. Had hidden it away, even from those who were closest to him. Who’d fought at his side, and put not only their lives in his hands, but also the lives of those who meant the most to them.
But now there was no more running. No more avoiding the inevitable...or his past...or those parts of his life that he wished he could simply erase from existence,