4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Vincent

W esley’s words ring through my head for several seconds before my mind is actually able to process them.

He’s got her. He has Skyla. He took her. And it’s all this dumb motherfucker’s fault. I can’t even blink before my body moves of its own accord. My hands are wrapped around Wesley’s throat, and I’m squeezing like I never have before. I snapped plenty of throats in my life, crushed plenty of tracheas. I have no doubt this one will be the most satisfying of all.

Wesley’s eyes bulge out of his head, but he doesn’t fight me. Just frantically grabs at my hands to release him. Yeah, fucking right.

I feel several pairs of hands on me, attempting to pry me from him. There is no point, though. I won’t let go of him, not for anything. Not until he pays for what he’s done.

“Vincent, c’mon. You’re gonna kill him!” Ronan barks.

“Good,” I grit through clenched teeth, my body shaking as I hold Wesley down with everything I have.

“No, not good. We need to focus our energy on finding Skyla, not tearing each other apart.”

I don’t care if he has a point. I’m fucking tired of these pieces of shits being so goddamn reckless with my siren’s life. It’s happened too many times, and some fucking consequences are more than due.

“What will she think when she finds out you killed him? She cares about him. It’ll hurt her,” Ronan says. “Please!” he begs as his arms strain, yanking on me violently while Wesley’s face turns a pale blue.

“Come on, Vincent. We have to find her, we need you. She needs you,” Ronan says.

My head turns to look at him, fury vibrating through me as my body shakes. He nods his head quickly.

“Skyla needs you.”

Turning back to Wesley, I lower my face to his as I snarl.

“She will never forgive you, and I’ll never forget this.”

Tossing him to the ground, he lands on the floor in a heap, coughing and gasping for breath as Ronan kneels beside him. He’s checking on him like a good little bitch while I actually do something important. Swiping Wesley’s phone, I begin flicking through the apps that are open, fast-forwarding the footage of the back of the house. The man carrying an unconscious Skyla disappears into the woods, and I pull up a separate screen to look at a map of the area.

There is a parking lot for a liquor store on the other side of those woods. Pulling up Wesley’s app once more, I’m able to tap into the city’s street cameras, accessing the one that points directly to that parking lot. Sure enough, the guy is parked close enough for me to make out who has her as he loads her into the back seat of his piece of shit car.

“Motherfucker,” I growl under my breath.

“Who?” Asher asks as he and Liam lean over my shoulder.

“What the fuck? Professor Corwin?” Liam balks. “He’s the stalker? How?”

“He saw a pretty girl and got obsessed,” I gnash at his stupidity before moving my eyes back to the camera, not missing a second as he climbs behind the wheel and takes a right out of the parking lot.

It takes me a moment to figure out how to work this system, but once I get the hang of it, I begin following them through the street cameras. I glance at Asher before continuing my search.

“Look up his assets. Properties, family. Wherever he could be taking her.”

Asher already has his phone out and is frantically tapping his fingers against the screen. Apparently, Ronan was doing the same thing because he steps beside me, showing me a screen.

Two properties belong to Nicholas Corwin. One apartment just off campus, and then a warehouse out in Vermont that was purchased a little over three months ago.

When the cameras show him heading for the freeway going northbound, I know we have our answer. Motherfucker is taking her to Vermont.

Tossing Wesley’s phone at Ronan’s chest, I stomp through the house, running down the stairs towards my keys and helmet.

“Keep tracking them just in case. They have to be heading for that warehouse.”

“Where are you going?” Ronan shouts.

“I’m going to get my girl!” I snarl as I rip the door open and sprint for my bike.

I fire it up before running into the garage, grabbing two five-gallon jugs of gas that I’ve had on hand for instances like this. I also grab a blanket and a first aid kit, just in case, before tossing it all into the back of Wesley’s car.

In the time it takes me to do all that, the fuck wads have finally managed to make it outside. Asher is locking the place up behind them as Wesley jumps into the driver’s seat, and Ronan is carrying Liam’s broken ass to the car.

Meanwhile, I plug in the coordinates of the address into my GPS, throwing my leg over my bike as I slam on my helmet. I’m not waiting for them in their fucking car. I’ll get there faster on my bike, or at least I’ll try. Every second counts, and I won’t count on anyone but myself to get my girl. Once I have her in my arms again, all bets are off. Everyone is going to burn from the ground fucking up, starting with Nicholas fucking Corwin.

I’m coming, Siren. I’m coming. Be strong for me. I’m coming.