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We both move from room to room, meeting back in the foyer. “Maybe he stayed with friends, his car isn’t even here,” I tell her, yet the sinking feeling in my stomach causes knots of anxiety.

“Or maybe he didn’t make it home at all. Maybe he is dead in a ditch somewhere,” she retorts, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Maybe you’re the one who’s lying, Cleo. Did you do something to him?”

“Why would I lie about that? And why would I do something to my boyfriend, Lydia? Just shut up, you aren’t making any sense!” I snarl incredulously, my anger rising at her accusation.

“Where were you, Cleo? I saw Deacon leave with you! Don’t lie to me, I know you’re lying!”

“Are you really going down this road right now? I told you I never left with him? Is that so hard to believe?” I ask, my disbelief growing by the second.

“I saw you!” she screams, her face turning purple in her anger as she clenches her fists glaring at me.

“Fine,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. I can’t deal with this anymore, now isn’t the time for it. “No, I wasn’t with Deacon last night. I was with someone else.”

My words seem to shock her, she flicks her long hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms. “Who?”

“None of your business!” I refuse to give her any more ammunition against me.

She opens her mouth to speak again, and I cut her off.

“Lydia, I swear,” I start to explain, my voice shaking with emotion, “he left me at the club; I don’t know where he went after that. Last time I remember seeing him, he was dancing with you and Maya!”

“Of course you don’t remember, how convenient. I don’t believe it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. My gaze flickers overher body, taking in her disheveled appearance – the smeared makeup, tousled hair, and rumpled clothes. Her gaze goes to me. She sneers, eyeing my clothes suspiciously.

“Clearly you were up to no good. Look at what you’re wearing. Where did you get the money for that dress? Are you whoring yourself out now?”

“I’m not doing this with you, think what you want,” I wave her off dismissively.

She really grates on my every nerve.

“You managed to find your way into someone else’s arms, didn’t you? I wonder what Deacon will think about that. You’re nothing but a slut. Who else are you screwing? Does Deacon know what a whore you are?” She keeps pushing, her words laced with malice and accusation.

“Wha—?” I stammer, caught off guard by her claims. It isn’t entirely baseless. Last night, in my drunken haze, I ended up entangled with Zayn, just not in the way she is suggesting.

“Lydia, it wasn’t like that,” I say defensively, my fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of my dress. “Let’s just inform my dad and organize a search,” I say, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.

“Fine,” she begrudgingly agrees, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You still haven’t answered my question, Cleo. If you weren’t with Deacon, where were you staying last night? Or should I say, who with?”

I feel my cheeks heat, knowing full well no answer will be good enough for Lydia. But there’s no escaping this conversation now. Taking a deep breath, I muster all my courage and admit, “I stayed with Zayn.” She stops beside my car staring at me.

Nervousness creeps into me, fuck I am so busted. My father is going to kill me.

“I tried to drive home, and Zayn ran into me,” I tell her truthfully, and she scoffs. “You were with Zayn? As in, you spent the night with him?” she asks, shocked.

“Zayn found me outside the club, alone and wasted, trying to drive home. He helped me back to his place. Deacon was not with me.”

“Wait, so you were gallivanting around with a rival pack Alpha the same night Deacon goes missing, and I am supposed to believe that is a coincidence!?”

“Lydia, I don’t care what you believe, just get in the car so we can find him. We’ve wasted enough time.” She huffs and does as she is told, then throws another accusation my way.

“Do you think your new boyfriend, Zayn, had something to do with Deacon’s disappearance? He doesn’t like him,” Lydia points out, pursing her lips as she cocks a brow as if I would know the answer to that, after spending a little time with Zayn.

I feel a surge of anger at her suggestion. “Zayn wouldn’t hurt Deacon,” I snap back. “He has no reason to. Besides, he is probably fine, you’ll see all this worry will be for nothing.” I snap back at her, and she falls back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. My mind goes back to what Zayn said about how he saved me, he never said from whom. I shake the thought away, Deacon would never. Right? The thought has been embedded into my mind, and for some reason I can’t shake it off as we continue the drive home.

Once home, Lydia rushes inside and I see my father is now home. I am dreading going inside now, I know Lydia will blurt to my father about me being with Zayn, and I can already see the fight this will cause.

Once Lydia is inside, I pull out my phone and send a message to Zayn. My fingers hesitate for a moment before I type.

Me: Deacon is missing. Can you check the club’s footage from last night? Maybe it can help us find out where he went.