Free Moonbound (Moonfate Serial Book 1) by Sylvia Frost Page B

And Lawrence—
    No, I won’t think about that.
    The numbness reaches my fingertips. All I want to do is pass out. I’m so tired. But even if whoever did this isn’t here now, he could be coming back. I have to get out of here.
    I flip the safety of the gun back on and shove it in my waistband, but then notice a glimmer of silver on Lawrence’s dresser. His phone.
    A weight bears down on me. Lawrence never goes anywhere without his phone. Never. There have been days when I’ve seen him forget his keys, his wallet, and put on mismatched hipster polka-dot socks. But he always has his phone.
    I set the gun on the dresser and pick up the phone. Then I press the home button and it lights up. A notification of one text message blinks, but it was sent by Lawrence himself.
    “Help, Artemis. Kidnapped. The Werebeasts want my blood.”
     

Chapter Fifteen
     
    I glance around the room, searching for signs of a struggle, but I find none. Then I look back at the message. In real life you don’t get a noble death or a ransom note; you get a text that says, “They want my blood.”
    I’m crying, I realize. I lean my hand on the windowsill, refusing to fall to my knees again. The tears come harsh and hot down my cheeks, burning my skin, and soon they turn to sobs so strong that I feel like I’m turning my throat inside out.
    I couldn’t stop it. I never could. I couldn’t stop my parents from being murdered or Lawrence from being kidnapped. I glare at the useless gun.
    The worst part is that all of this has absolutely nothing to do with me. I thought that if I kept myself safe and away from werebeasts they could never hurt me or anyone else I loved again. But I was wrong. There is so much in this world I can’t control.
    I let out a shuddering sigh.
    Suddenly, Orion’s offer doesn’t seem unappealing. To give up control to someone else, to have them keep me safe. Even a werewolf.
    That thought gives me an idea. Reaching over to Lawrence’s phone, still sniffling, I hit the Tracker button. Again, the map unfolds in front of me. I see two dots, one for Cooper, lying here in my house, and another only a couple miles south of where I left Orion. My heart flip-flops in my chest.
    He’s still out there. Is he still waiting for me?
    Instead of scrolling out this time, I click on an hourglass in the corner of the screen. A simple blue line, dotted with timestamps, replaces the map. I swipe backwards a half-hour. That must have been when Cooper was attacked and killed. Any earlier, with the open windows, the whole house would’ve been soaked from the rain.
    A map of Tracker shows up from approximately an hour ago. Nothing. No werebeasts. Except for the dot in the house—Cooper’s body—and the red dot — Orion. I press my lips together, trying not to remember the feel of his soft kiss.
    Shaking my head, I click through the other timestamps, reviewing hour after hour of records. Still nothing. According to Tracker, no were except Cooper has been near this house tonight.
    But that can’t be right. I know a were must have done it. Why else would Lawrence have texted out that message? There’s only one other option. The weres that attacked Lawrence haven’t been cataloged by Tracker. Which means the only way to find him is hunting the old-fashioned way.
    Who can do that except the FBSI?
    I tap the nearby red dot and am once again brought to Orion’s profile. It’s so strange seeing his name now that I have a face to put to it. It’s as if after meeting him I realize how little I actually know about him.
    I scroll down a little farther. His profile is as empty as always, except for an addition that makes me pause.
    A phone number.
    I stare at it, the hazy beginnings of a plan forming in my mind. Before I know what it is completely, I know that it’s a bad idea. But the facts all point to it. I know the police won’t be of any help, and the FBSI even less so. There’s no way I’m going to be able to find Lawrence by