Threat ||

Sigewuf's POV

Where's the girl? Vikron's words were echoing loudly in my ear.

Camille wasn't stupid. She couldn't have left the Nightwatchers pack if someone hadn't asked her to or dragged her away. Or was Vikron trying to play a fast one on me? Probably he had the girl locked up somewhere so he could have her to himself, and now was putting up a facade.

But he couldn't have driven for what? An hour? To come down here if it wasn't important. Even though he hadn't set foot through the gate, it had been eleven years since he was last seen around here.

“So you're saying someone has Camille right now?” I asked, addressing neither of them in particular.

“Yes,” Skyla replied.

What was even wrong with the red-haired? Couldn't she just shut up? I had wanted a response from Vikron, not her.

I stifled the anger brewing within me, an edge to my tone. “And that person signed out, was damn smart enough to include alongside her name that he was her family and that their relationship was based on marriage? Sounds like someone is trying to make a point.”

Skyla's eyes narrowed at my tone. “Whoever is with her knew we would suspect you because you once had a marriage contract with her.”

The red-haired lady was either an angry bird with a whip to piss me off, or she was just nosy.

What did she mean by *had*? I wanted to slam my fist into those full lips bathed with lipstick so she could shut up. My marriage with Camille was still valid. That's until I see that there's no mating mark between her and Vikron.

“Whoever has her knows you and me,” Vikron finally spoke. His voice was calm.

“They knew we would come here first. That remark in the entry book was used to buy them enough time to move her further away so we can't find her easily.” He turned, walking toward his car.

“That shouldn't be a problem for you. You should be able to pick up her scent,” I said, feeling desperate and unable to quell my anxiety. I knew he would respond with that look—that withering look, so eloquent in its lordly, subdued hatred.

Vikron glared hard at me. His gaze burned. “Of course, I can. It's definitely not a problem,” he said as he got into the back of his black Ford Taurus and slammed the door shut.

If not for how he had sounded so confident—or rather, how he had not responded to me—I would have preferred him to pump a fist in the air, walk gallantly knowing Camille wasn't here. But no. Instead, he had given an insouciant half-shrug.

I had no idea if I resented him more for not being able to predict what he was capable of or for feeling...

Skyla stood, her eagle eyes watching me. She gave a bleak smile, muttered an expletive under her breath, then started off toward the car.

She pissed me off more than Vikron did.

They didn't drive off. They sat inside. I had no idea what they were waiting for, but I didn't wait for them to leave.

I turned and made my way inside the mansion. Why did everything about one person have to complicate things? I slammed the door to my room and sank onto the bed.

The screen of my phone lit up as it vibrated on the crystal-stemmed table. There was no caller ID.

“I guess you had a nice time with your visitors,” a voice spoke from the phone as I held it close to my ear.

“Who the fvck is this?” I yelled.

There was a pause. The voice came back. “I guess they left already. You all want the same thing as I do. The only problem is, we'll either have to share the body parts or just you will have to stop searching and let me have her all to myself.”

I felt my hands tremble underneath the weightless phone. “You wouldn't want to hit a wrong button now, would you?”

“You all have 72 hours to decide.” The line went dead.

Fuck! Absolute ass-pissing shit! I yelled into the void.

Who the fuck was behind all of this? If Vikron didn't have Camille and she wasn't with me either, who was playing the chess?