Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Boss?” Cal interrupts me. I’d be irritated, but I find I don’t mind because I know he’s at least not going to talk about anybody being someone’s fated mate.
“Yeah?”
“A couple of the delivery guys went missing.”
I turn to look at him. “What do you mean, missing?”
“They went out to do some, uh, deliveries, and their phones are dead and they haven’t been back to see anyone for like, two days.”
“Do we usually not notice when Runaways go missing for two days?”
He shrugs. “Everyone here does what they want. We don’t keep tabs outside the obvious.”
I don’t know why I’m asking him. He’s not the one who set the policy. I am. I feel a stab of guilt at the idea I could be missing two people and not even know.
“Send the boys to go find them,” I say. “We can’t lose pack members.”
“I’ll let them know. Tech boy can probably trace where they were from their phones.”
“Let me know,” I tell him. I have paperwork to do. There are brand deals coming in left and right at the moment. The Runaways are on the verge of becoming a real force in the market.
“Will do,” he says. “Uh, boss?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to have lunch today?”
“I might. Why?”
“Because I noticed you hadn’t had breakfast. And you didn’t yesterday either, and you didn’t eat lunch yesterday either.”
“You don’t have to monitor my food intake,” I tell him. “I’m good. I promise.”
“Sure, but, you know. The whole thing with the losing the V card? And then what happens after that?”
“Will you stop talking about this if I let you order me some nachos and a milkshake?”
“Yeah,” he smiles.
* * *
By the end of the day, there’s a warm milkshake on my desk, and some congealed nachos attracting flies, but I’ve gotten a lot done. Our delivery boys are still missing, and the guards haven’t been able to find them. It’s a worry.
“They might have decided to go on a bender. They might be sleeping something off somewhere,” Tom says. “Caden and Ralph are kind of like that, that’s why we keep them on deliveries. Can’t trust them with guns.”
“Can’t trust you with guns either,” I quip.
He grins, knowing it’s a joke.
There’s not much we can do about those two missing right now. We don’t keep tabs on the pack. We don’t force people to check in. Maybe we should.
* * *
From then on, our pack starts to dwindle. People start disappearing off the street. One, sometimes two or three at a time, people who should be back at the loft, or at work, or running errands just stop getting back to us.
The Runaways are fifty members strong, but right now we are at forty-one. Nine of us are missing. Five men, four women. Some of them are barely kids, at eighteen.
Work has to take a back seat to this. I call a meeting of the entire pack at Laura’s loft, and we talk about what to do. Last time we were here it was footsie pajamas and cocktails. The vibe is very different this time around.
“It’s those Regent fucks,” Carl says. He’s the oldest among us, almost thirty. He has tattoos up and down both arms, designed to look like machines. They’re cool. He’s cool. And he’s worried.
I suspect he’s right. We’ve never had anyone go missing before, and now that Rex Regent is involved, we suddenly can’t keep track of our people?
We have a lot of irons in the fire. What started as a social media account has turned into a lifestyle brand. We sell merch, clothing, stickers. We’re thinking about a line of protein supplements. There’s more to do than any of us can do, and losing people in the field is a bad fucking thing practically as well as personally.
“Alright. From now on, everybody has location tracking on their phone, nobody goes out in a group of less than three, and I want every threesome to be wearing glasses that stream to the cloud. Am I understood? If you’re taken, we want to know how and by who.”
There’s a general rustle of unrest. I know why. Everyone currently in this room thinks it would never happen to them because unlike the people who did get taken, everyone here thinks they’re smarter, faster, better, more dangerous.
“I mean it,” I say. “Anyone who doesn’t follow those rules is going to be grounded.”
An actual laugh goes up this time. They know I don’t mean that. The idea of me grounding anyone is laughable. I don’t have authority in this pack because I throw my weight around and punish people. I have my authority for other, darker reasons nobody really wants to think about. Lineage matters even in messy bands like this one.
“Fine,” I smirk. “Not grounded, but fucking seriously, you dicks. Stay together and stay safe. We don’t know what’s going on out there.”