My eyes flutter open to the sound of birds. I shoot up in bed. Itâs still dark but itâs almost four. The last I remembered seeing the clock was after one, I fell asleep thinking Gabriel was just late for the first time ever, but now, a feeling of dread settles in my stomach.
Gabriel is never late. He always arrives on time or early.
I pick up my phone and hope to find a message telling me why he isnât here but thereâs nothing except a few pictures from Layla whoâs still at the rally with the girls. I text him but itâs marked as undelivered. I call, straight to voicemail.
I feel my face contort. I know his phone is never off. Heâs always on high alert for any situation that may arise. I start to pace around the room, biting my nails as I do.
I try Jake and it also goes straight to voicemail.
I pour myself a stiff drink from the glass cantor on Gabrielâs dresser. I knock it back and try to rationalize what is happening.
Fuck. I have no idea.
I pull my phone out and open the AirTag app. I havenât even used it yet, but at least if I check where he is Iâll be able to guess if heâs safe before I decide to wake up half the club.
I scroll with shaky fingers to find Gabrielâs location. I wait as it takes an eon to load. When it does, my heart drops into my stomach. Heâs at St Henryâs cabin?
âThe night we had the party at St Henryâs old resort⦠Iâve had him once, Iâll have him again.â
I squeeze my eyes shut. No thatâs not it. He wouldnât. I instantly push that thought out of my mind. Chelsea was someone he bided his time withânothing more, nothing less. He wouldnât touch her, thatâs not why heâs there. I know it with everything in me. It must be where he met the seller, but something isnât right.
I pace for a few minutes and try to text him again, knowing in my gut that he and Jake must be in some sort of trouble. Maybe the sale was a set up by DOS?
Or someone found out they were meeting? Either way, he wouldnât be this long. I read his last text from me at 9:05. An hour. Even if the guy was later, he still would have been home hours ago.
I text Sean and Layla, but get no answer. I try to phone Sean, but he doesnât answer that either. I know they are staying at Glen Eden along with a lot of the club so I wouldnât be surprised if they drank too much.
I try to wrack my brain to remember who came back to Harmony and who stayed in Benson.
Flipp. Flipp came home.
I pull my phone out and thank my lucky stars Gabriel programmed his main men into my phone a couple weeks ago. As I wait for him to answer, I also let the inevitable sink in. Flipp is fifty years old. He isnât in the best shape so Iâm not sure he could even help me.
He doesnât answer anyway so I continue my pace. I argue with myself. I canât go there. If I do and heâs involved with club business, he will be furious I showed up. If heâs in trouble, am I ready at all to help him after only a month of training with him? Iâm hitting my targets and Iâm stronger but in a moment of real pressure would I help him or make it worse?
I remember his words from before he left and it solidifies my fate.
If Iâm going to be late for any reason, Iâll text you.
âShit, shit, shit!â I yell into the quiet house because my decision is already made.
Iâm already pulling on my jeans and my boots. If I get there and all is fine, Iâll just turn around and come home. I go over my plan in my head as I tie up my Doc Martens. I can park on Hwy 6 and walk the last bit in. Iâll take one look and if everything seems legit, Iâll just sneak away. Heâll be none the wiser and Iâll beat him back home.
I grab my gun and check the mag, holstering it at my waist with shaky hands, then without giving it another thought, Iâm charging through the front door and down the front steps of Gabrielâs house before I lose my nerve, making sure to pull the damn AirTag out from under my front seat, tossing it into the grass before I enter the address of St Henryâs into my nav.
In any other circumstance, I wouldâve dwelled on this for the next hour, but I know with everything in me that something is wrong. For the first time in my life I donât think, I just do⦠and hope to God Iâve made the right choice.
As the dark highway passes by out my window, I realize I donât know what scares me more, finding out nothing is wrong or finding out that something is.