Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 50
the wolf
quiet.
That’s the first thing I notice.
The front door is closed, and everything appears to be normal from the outside, but I can feel the staunching stillness as soon as I pull into the driveway. Sienna appears beside me on the front porch, a solemn look on her face as I twist the knob and find that it’s unlocked.
Stardust never leaves her doors unlocked.
“I did everything I could think to do, Bash,” she says, and her words sound more like an apology than an explanation.
An apology for doing everything she could, but still not doing enough.
I’m stuck on that thought when I open the door and the messy front room comes into view. My eyes land on every imperfection and piece that’s out of place. I’ve memorized this house over the last few months—taken note of each menial detail. And all of it is shifted. As if someone picked up the house and gave it a good shake before setting it back down again.
My feet take me through the rooms in search of her. The kitchen is even messier than the front room, and the dining table and chairs that my mother and Sienna picked out have been smashed to pieces.
That’s where I find them.
Jovie’s lifeless body lies beside the coward who attacked her, their blood pooled beneath them in a way that makes it impossible for me to locate the source of it. He's a bloody, mangled mess, and she has dried blood matted in too many spots for me to count.
Both of them have clearly put up a fight. I only hope she has a little more left in her than he does.
I walk to her side, crouching to press my fingers against her neck and check for a pulse.
It’s hardly there—the weak, thrumming beat of life still pumping through her veins. But it’s enough to have me blowing out a breath and sending a prayer of gratitude up to the imaginary man up above. Quickly pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dial the number and hold it up to my ear, lightly grazing my knuckles against Stardust’s cheek.
“911, what’s your emergency,” the operator’s feminine voice answers after one ring.
“My girlfriend has been attacked in her home. She’s hardly breathing. We need an ambulance as soon as possible,” I explain in a detached, low tone.
The panic wreaking havoc on my chest doesn’t infect my speaking at all, and I’m sure the operator is taken off guard by my peaceful demeanor.
This is just the calm before the storm.
I recite the address to the operator, answer a few of her questions, and then hang up. I want a few moments alone with Stardust before the chaos begins. I want a chance to make sure her attacker is truly dead, because there’s no way in hell I’m allowing another asshole with a god complex to hurt someone I love and get away with it.
Someone I love.
The intrusive thought gives me pause. I shove it down before it can grow legs and take off.
“Jovie, baby,” I begin, leaning forward so my lips are right against her ear.
My hand carefully wraps around her upper arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze so she knows I’m right beside her, but not enough to cause her any pain. I don’t want to move her too much and disrupt her injuries before the medics get here.
“Hold on for a few more minutes. I need you to stay strong until the ambulance comes and fixes you up. Can you do that for me?”
Tears roll down my cheeks as her lungs make a horrible wheezing noise, desperate for oxygen that can’t seem to make its way through her windpipes.
“I can’t lose you, Stardust,” I go on. “I refuse to let you go without me.”
Sienna appears behind me, and while I can't feel her touch, I know she’s placed her hand along my shoulder in a show of support. Whatever she witnessed here—whatever she did to stop it—it’s taken a toll on her.
There’s a pounding on the door before it’s thrust open and heavy footsteps enter the house. I call out to them, letting them know where to go before I lean forward and place a soft kiss on Stardust’s cheek, and then back away from her to allow them access.
The police arrive a few moments later, and then a fire truck pulls in, filling the yard with emergency vehicles and flashing lights. They try asking me questions, but I can’t give them any answers. Sienna is beside me the entire time, spouting out replies to their line of questioning. Of course, I’m the only one who can hear her, and I’m not in a position to offer what she’s saying without negating my entire argument that I wasn’t here until I called them in.
Once they're gone and both bodies have been cleaned up from the floor—hers to be taken to the hospital and his to be taken to the morgue—I stand in the middle of the kitchen and take the scene in. It's not my first time standing in puddles of blood, surrounded by remnants of chaos and struggle. But this is the only time it's ever taken a toll on me mentally.
Crouching down to the spot I found Stardust lying in less than an hour ago, I swipe my finger through the blood, caking it with the thick chunks that have almost fully dried out.
I could lose her.
It would be my fault, too. I knew she wasn't safe in Styx after being seen with me in New York. I should have done more to get her to stay with me. I should have tied her up and forced her. I should have set my ego aside, ignored the sting that came with her rejection, and come back to Styx to make sure she was still okay.
All of this is my fault, and I don't fucking know how to fix it.
Being in her life has gotten her attacked. Staying away made her an easy target.
What do I do now?