Page 78 of Hungry Like the Wolf

But then his eyes flew open wide as he realized what he was saying.

“Wait. You saw her?” Robbie asked, feeling as if he might throw up.

“That’s what I just tried to tell you, Robbie. I made an appointment and convinced her to give me this number so I could talk to you. And then she insisted on asking me questions about my childhood. I have another appointment next week. I panicked and?—”

Robbie didn’t hear anything else. Callum sounded like a drone in the background.

He’d seen Nadja. He talked to Nadja. In her office.

She hadn’t been taken back to Hell. Relief made his knees weak.

“How—” Robbie’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “How was she?”

“She looked like hell,” Callum said. “I’d never met her before my session, but I overheard Hank and Esther talking about her. Hank said he was worried she was sick. At my session, she definitely looked like she had what we used to call wasting sickness back in the day.”

Those weak knees gave out, and Robbie collapsed onto the chair, nearly capsizing when the wheels sent it flying backwards.

Evidently, Callum heard the commotion from his end because Robbie heard him say, “Robbie, what the fuck is going on over there?”

“Nothing,” he blurted, righting himself in the chair. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Except it wasn’t fine. Because if Nadja hadn’t been dragged back to Hell, that meant that she’d left.

She’d left him.

And more than that, if she looked so bad that Callum was discussing antique wasting illnesses, it meant she wasn’t doing her Voyours work or, at least, not enough of it.

The shadowy cavern in his chest where his heart had been suddenly felt different than it had in months. Where he’d felt only heartbreak and a devastating sense of loss, he now felt a tumult of new, terrifying, other things. Hope, excitement, and sparkling through it all, an electric sort of rage. Hot and bright like a neon sign, pulsing in his limbs and his chest and his brain.

His goddamn fated mate had left him, and he was almost certain that she had done it for some reason that felt perfectly reasonable to her and was meant to save him or someone else because Nadja was apparently incapable of not sacrificing herself for the sake of others. And that somehow made the anger spark brighter. Because she also deserved care. His mate deserved to think of herself, to care for herself, to let someone else take care of her, too.

“I’ll be back tonight,” he said, interrupting whatever Callum had been saying and hung up the phone, tossing it onto the desk.

Robbie stormed out of the office and into the kitchen, where JJ and Rose were sitting at the little corner table, drinking coffee in silence.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, his hands shaking.

JJ rose. “Where are you going?”

“Back to World’s End. I need to have a word with my mate.”

Rose’s eyes widened in shock. “But she’s?—”

“Been there the whole time,” Robbie said. He went to the prep table and unscrewed the top from his water bottle, draining the contents in one, leviathan swallow. He crossed to the sink to refill it and, over his shoulder, said, “The pot pie filling is done, and the ovens are preheated. Put the filling in those pans and top them with the pastry. Egg wash the crust and bake them until the tops are brown.”

He turned and saw that Rose and JJ had come closer. JJ had his arms crossed over his chest, as he so often did. Rose was wringing the hem of her denim shirt between her hands.

“You’re coming back, right?” she said, her voice trembling and eyes bright with tears.

Robbie didn’t know what to say.

“You’re pack,” she went on, coming closer and reaching for his free hand with both of hers, clutching it tightly. “You’re pack, and you’re part of us. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Rose,” JJ said, his tone a warning and a comfort in one.

“He’s pack, JJ,” she insisted. “He’s?—”

“I’ll call you,” Robbie said. “I’ll tell you where I’m going and—” He swallowed. “And when I’ll be back.”