Page 15 of Flint's Arrow
Flint’s eyebrows drew together. Curse who?
The next message was from Wren:“He’s already locked up, so it’s not fair to curse him as well, am I right, Flint?”
Locked up? Flint scrolled faster, trying to piece together what he’d missed. There were photos, although they were all blurry as if they’d been taken in low light. A figure slumped against a wall. Chains? No, just shadows.
Another text from Pax:“He looks MISERABLE. Good.”
Wren again:“Devon says we should at least give him a blanket.”
Pax:“Devon’s too soft. Let the puppy freeze.”
Puppy.
Flint’s blood ran cold, then hot. His fingers tightened on the phone. They couldn’t mean...
“Hey.”
Flint’s head snapped up. Python stood a few feet away, dressed in his typical uniform of tight black jeans and a leather jacket. His long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and he carried a to-go cup from some fancy coffee place Flint didn’t recognize.
“You look like hell,” Python said cheerfully.
“Who’s locked up?” The words came out sharper than Flint intended.
Python’s smile didn’t fade, but something flickered in his eyes. “Welcome home to you, too.”
“Python.” Flint stepped closer, lowering his voice even though the terminal was nearly empty. “Who. Is. Locked. Up.”
Python took a long sip of his coffee, deliberately slow. “Your mate.”
The world tilted. Flint’s snake stirred, confused and agitated. “Arrow?”
“The one and only.” Python gestured toward the exit. “Come on. I’ll explain in the car.”
Flint didn’t move. “You locked Arrow in the sawmill.”
“Welocked Arrow in the sawmill,” Python corrected. “It was a group decision. Well, Pax suggested it, but we all agreed.”
“For three days?” Flint’s voice climbed higher.
“He showed up at your house in the middle of the night like a stalker.” Python’s tone lost its playful edge. “Tracked your scent to your front porch. Storm, Devon, and Levi caught him sniffing around. What did you expect us to do? Invite him in for tea? You’re lucky Storm and Devon didn’t kill him, because that was their plan.”
Flint’s mind raced. Arrow had come to his house. Arrow had tracked him. Arrow had...
“You should’ve called me.” But even as Flint said it, he knew how ridiculous that sounded.
“Right.” Python’s eyebrow arched. “Call you while you’re lining up a shot on a vampire trafficker to let you know your asshole mate is trespassing. Great plan. Really professional.”
Flint’s shoulders sagged. He was too tired to be dealing with any shit and too strung out from three days of cold rooftops, dirty safe houses, and missing his mate even though he had every right to be angry.
“Is he okay?” The question slipped out before Flint could stop it.
Python’s expression softened. “He’s fine. Pissed off, uncomfortable, probably going insane from the mating pull. But fine.”
“No one actually cursed him, did they?”
“Pax wanted to. I talked him down to psychological torture instead.” Python grinned. “That pixie’s got a real creative streak when he’s defending his friends.”
Flint rubbed his face. “I can’t believe I’ve come home to this.”
