“Where are you, Cleo?” I snarl to myself, storming through the crowded parking lot until I spot her car. My heart races as I move toward it, only to hear a whimper from the car beside it, and something flashes in the back.
Moving around I get to the car beside it and find Deacon texting when I spot her. Her leggings are pulled off and discarded, her shirt torn open, and I can see claw marks down her left breast when I notice she hasn’t got any underwear on.
Her legs are pulled apart, her knees held flat against the carpet of the trunk and her stitches torn wide open. Blood cascades down her leg onto the carpeted floor. That is not the most disturbing part; it’s the glazed-over look on her face, and I realize he is taking pictures of her in such a vulnerable state.
Cleo whimpers when he leans down to fondle her breast. And she tries to say no, though her words are garbled. Looking at Deacon, he pockets his phone and shoves his pants down his legs. I rip the back hatch open, and he jumps, startled.
Deacon shrieks. “What the fuck, man,” he snarls.
“She said no!” I roar, grabbing the back of his shirt and ripping him from the car.
“Whoa, calm down, man! You can have a go after me,” Deacon retorts. A whimper escapes her lips, and I want to comfort her and let her know she is safe. First I need to deal with this prick.
My fist connects with his face as I fight against my wolf from shifting. If Zarek takes hold, this kid will be dead. He drops to his knees when I grab the hatch, slamming it down on his head repeatedly until he crumples to the ground. Bending down I fetch his phone from where it fell on the ground. I go through it, deleting the pictures only for a message to come through from Lydia. I glance at Cleo, her stepsister is the only person I know with that name which makes me curious. I open the text message and see Deacon has sent the photos to her. My stomach sinks, and I try to unsend the images but can’t since she already opened them.
Now why would he be sending these to her? Pocketing the phone, I nudge Deacon with my foot. He is definitely out cold.
Lifting the hatch, Cleo has passed out. Her leg is bleeding everywhere.
“Fuck!” I curse, pulling my jacket off and placing it across her waist to cover her. She whimpers, “Shh, I won’t hurt you, love,” I whisper while clamping my hand over her leg.
After a second, I decided to take her, knowing I can’t leave her here in this state. Opening the mindlink, I search for my brother, and he answers immediately.“What’s up?”
“Are you still at the club?”
“Yeah, out back. What’s wrong?” he replies, a hint of concern in his tone.
“Bring my car around to the front, look for a blue wagon, and hurry,”I command.
“Okay, give me a sec.”Using her leggings, I wrap her leg as best I can.
“Are you by the doors or the other end,” Vance responds, and I can sense him moving quickly to follow my orders.
“Midway down,”I answer.
As I wait for my brother, I glance down at Cleo, my heart aching at the sight of her battered, vulnerable state. Her goldenhair is matted with sweat, and her once beautiful green eyes are tightly shut, as though she’s trying to block out the world around her. I want nothing more than to hold her close, and to make her feel safe again.
When headlights light up the parking lot, I peer over the roof of the car, realizing how packed the place is. Opening the mindlink again, I contact the bouncer, seeing the huge group of people waiting out front.
“Let them all in,”I mindlink.
“Pardon, boss?” Stuart replies, peering around for me.“Let them in. I need this parking lot cleared now!”
“On it,”he obeys.
I stick my head out, peering over at the entrance doors when Vance pulls up with my car. I grab Cleo from the back. “Open the back door,” I order, and he does so quickly while he glances around.
“We’re kidnapping girls now?” he asks.
“No, just my mate,” I answer, and he seems startled by this information. Shutting the door, I pop the trunk, and he follows.
“What’s going on?” Vance gasps, spotting a bleeding Deacon on the ground.
“Grab his legs,” I order, and he does, helping me load Deacon into the trunk. I go back and shut the hatch of the wagon only to realize Deacon must have his keys on him. Cursing, I reopen the trunk and fish in his pockets, retrieving his keys and tossing them to Vance when Deacon begins to stir, his eyes fluttering open. Panic fills them when he sees me looming over him.
“Please,” he begs. “You can have her. Just let me go.”
My anger flares at his words. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pull him close. “I intend to,” I say, my eyes never leaving him. “Because she’s my mate.”
