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Time stands still, the three of us together, and then four, as Cade comes along to stand at my back, his scent making me want to melt into his body.

The countdown begins, the entire ball room joining in.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Happy New Year, love,” Garen says, tilting my chin up with his fingers and leaning in, lips-first.

I want this. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life, not even the return of my mother.

Matty’s face flashes across my mind, skin pale and battered, eyes lifeless, and I gasp, jump away from my Alphas, letting the flute of champagne slip from my fingers and shatter on the floor.

No one can hear us over the loud rendition of Old Ang Signe playing over the speakers, people singing and cheering.

And I run as fast as my spiked heels will take me.

Out of the ballroom, across the lobby, to the elevator where I mash the call button a billion times in rapid succession until the doors open and I’m inside, doing the same again to the Door Close button.

It isn’t until I’m alone that I pull my keycard from my strapless bra and punch in the code. Once the elevator headed to Petrov and my suite, my fist clenches the center of my chest and I gasp for breath.

When the doors open to the private hall, I rush out, unlock the suite door and call for Petrov.

But the suite is completely dark and dead silent until I pass through the door and into the living room, activating the motion sensor lighting.

Where the fuck did Petrov go?

Chapter Twelve

Ilya

“Sir. Your meeting is ready.” Cade’s assistant, Killian, gives me a small bow, his gloved hands at his sides.

“Thank you, Killian.”

Killian nods and returns to his post with haste.

“Is it time? Oh, please, say it’s time.”

Garen’s grin is as wild as his eyes when he asks, and for the first time in a long time, I’m nearly as excited as he is.

It took over an hour for the guests to clear out of the ballroom, either going to their rooms upstairs or traveling home if they’re local and chose not to book rooms. Keeping up appearances had never been so difficult. As good hosts, my pack brothers and I needed to stay and see everyone off, receive their thanks and gratitude, and in some cases, be taken aside and quietly let in on some… developments.

“Someone was taken tonight,” Cade says under his breath, close to my ear.

“I assume it isn’t ours?”

“Negative. A guest of a guest.”

“Do we need to get involved?”

“As of now, no. I’ll keep an ear to the ground for any changes.”

I nod at him, scanning the empty ballroom as workers come in to clean everything up. The DJ had been one of the last to leave, collecting his stack of cash from Garen before exiting with a few assistants in tow carrying the packed-up equipment out.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” Garen urges, leading the way out of the room through the side door that opens to the vast kitchen beyond. The floor is a hair’s breadth from black, and everything else around is stainless steel, from the preparation stations to the stove tops and ovens, light fixtures and hanging utensils.