Page 92 of Wounded Soul
Fishing the SIM card out of her pocket, she turned the phone on its side, then abruptly stopped.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. The relief she’d felt moments ago quickly faded as she stared at the little hole and wondered how the fuck she was going to get the slot open without the little pointy thing.
She knocked her head gently against the floor a couple of times.
So fucking close.
There had to be something else in that bloody drawer that would do it.
Sticking her hand back in, she starting to sift through the crap, hoping like fuck she found something soon.
What felt like an age later, her finger caught on something sharp. She winced at the pinch but crowed in triumph when she pulled out a roll of cotton with a needle shoved into it.
Jackpot.
Wiping her hands on her jeans, she carefully transferred the SIM into her old phone and prayed like fuck that it had charge.
Surely fate wouldn’t be that cruel?
Lys pressed the power button and waited for the apple to appear.
It took a moment, a very long, torturous moment, but then the phone lit up like magic. Four per cent. She had four fucking per cent battery left. The battery was shit as well, that was why she’d got a new one. Definitely not enough for a phone call, it’d run out of charge the minute the call connected knowing her luck, but enough to text.
Lys could think of only one person who could get her the help she needed.
With trembling fingers, she wrote out the message as fast as she could and hit Send. The screen went black almost straight away.
No chance of getting a reply.
She just hoped it’d gone through.
With nothing to do now but wait, Lys put the phone down and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Raph glared at Peter. “I don’t fucking believe this.”
Ian sat in the chair opposite Raph’s desk and watched him repeatedly run a hand through his hair, gaze fixed on Peter, as Peter calmly told him a version of events that bore little resemblance to the truth.
Ian’s hands were no longer cuffed, but with Cate in the hands of vampires, Peter didn’t need them to keep him under control.
When Peter finished speaking, Raph’s attention swung to Ian.
“Is that what happened? Did Jesse do all those things?”
He could tell Raph the truth. Tell him that Peter held Cate hostage, but he’d get her killed for sure. If Peter failed to contact Michael again soon, Ian could well imagine what he and Simon would do to her, left to their own devices. And Peter had already told him they weren’t wearing their trackers, so how would anyone find her?
Please forgive me, Jesse.
He felt the weight of Peter’s stare where he sat beside him and forced the words out. “Yes. It’s all true.” They felt like ash on his tongue, but he sat there and answered question after question as Raph’s expression grew more defeated with each answer he gave.
“Fucking hell.” Raph slumped into his chair, head in his hands.
“Not quite the golden boy you thought he was, eh?”
Raph’s head snapped up, eyes dark, expression menacing enough to make Ian press back against his seat. “Now is not the time, Peter. And wipe that fucking smug look off your face. This isn’t about you and whatever little victory you think you’ve scored here.” He gestured to Ian. “An innocent man has been killed and turned into a vampire without his consent. By a member of my coven. It goes against everything in our agreement with the VLCD. Do you have any idea what position that puts me in? Or the coven as a whole? Do you?”
