Page 11 of Merciless King

“Where is she?” Connor asked the officer.

“Locked herself in the back we think. Heard a noise back there, but she’s not coming out. The thing’s reinforced steel, no getting through it. We’re waiting on a locksmith.”

I didn’t wait for the rest and headed straight to the back of the shop. What the fuck had happened here? The place was a mess, flowers dumped out, water everywhere, shelves turned over.

Every muscle in my body locked up, fear gripping me by the throat. She’d been scared, she’d come to me, and I hadn’t believed her. I’d told her she was imagining things. I felt fucking sick.

If anything had happened to her…

Another officer stood by the door in back, with a guy beside him wearing civilian clothes.

Connor came up beside me.

“Is she hurt?” I said to the officer.

“She’s not talking,” he said.

Fuck. “Who’s he?” I said motioning to the civilian.

“Victim support.”

I stared at the door. London was behind it, scared out of her mind, possibly hurt. “Get rid of them,” I said to Connor.

Thankfully, Connor did as I asked, telling them to give us a few minutes. “London, honey,” Connor called. “It’s Connor. Detective Daniels.”

Nothing.

He tried again. Still nothing. Not a damned sound.

Christ, what if she was bleeding, unconscious? I wanted to tear the door from its hinges.

I placed my hand on the heavy steel. Shit. After the way I’d treated her, I hoped like hell having me here didn’t make it worse.

I cleared my throat. “London?” Nothing. My heart was pounding, smacking against the back of my ribs. She was hurt. She had to be. Where was the fucking locksmith? “It’s me…it’s Van.”

There was a scrape from the other side.

“London?” I called again.

Still no answer.

“I need you to let me know you’re okay.”

Silence a beat, then, “Van?”

Her voice was tentative, so quiet I barely heard her.

I had to clear my throat again because my vocal cords were suddenly tight as fuck. “Yeah, it’s me.” It took everything I had not to tell her to back up so I could try and kick the fucking door down. “You hurt, sweetheart?”

“No…” More noises from the other side. “No, I’m okay.”

“Can you open the door for me? Can you do that?”

There was another scrape, then the sound of the lock clicking. The door opened a crack, and she peeked out. As soon as those baby-blue eyes landed on me, the door flew wide and she rushed at me, colliding with my chest, and wrapping herself around me.

I stood there, fucking stunned, holding her so tight I was probably hurting her. But I couldn’t bring myself to let her go.

“I was so scared,” she said against my chest. “I couldn’t move…I tried, but I couldn’t move.” Her arms squeezed tighter, and she burrowed deeper. “Then I didn’t know who was out here. If it was him, if he was trying to trick me into opening the door…I didn’t know…” A sob broke free and then she was full on crying in my arms.