Page 142 of My Unhinged Alphas
“What is it?” I ask.
“You need to get back to the house.”
I rub a hand over my face and look toward the weak light pushing around the curtains. Dawn, barely. Not enough sleep to call it rest.
“What house?”
A pause.
Then, flatly, “Your girl’s psycho date.”
That gets all of me awake.
I stand and move away from the bed automatically, lowering my voice even though I already know the others can sleep through worse when they need to.
“What about it?”
“There’s something here,” he says. “Something all three of you need to see.”
I go still.
Not because of the words. Because of the way he says them.
“Why are you there?” I ask.
Another beat.
“I decided to help after all.”
I let the silence sit. On the other end of the line, I can hear faint movement. Wind, maybe. A door creaking. He’s outside or near an opening.
“That’s not an answer,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t.”
I look toward the second bed. Vale is under the edge of the blanket now, one arm thrown over his eyes, breathing deep enough to pass for sleep. Havoc’s on the other side of the bed,half on top of the covers, dead to the world in the way only men with a talent for compartmentalizing can be. I frown at that. When did they get on the bed?
My jaw tightens.
Voss goes on before I can push.
“I had a thought after your friends left the club. Didn’t like it. So I took a drive.” His voice stays even. “Turns out I dislike being right this early in the morning.”
That’s more than he gave us last night. Still not enough.
“What did you find?”
“You’ll want to see it before I say too much.”
I hate that answer.
He knows I hate it too.
“You called me at dawn to be mysterious?”
“No,” he says. “I called because if I’m right, this stopped being about a dead amateur with a drugged girl in his basement the second you walked out of there.”
“What changed?” I ask.
