in clammy hands, she bolted out and headed for the stairwell at a dead run, leaving her keys, purse, everything behind in her car.
She knew everyone was in the office this afternoon to discuss a new case they were taking on, which was good since she wouldn’t have to wait for everyone to filter in but bad for the new case because Eliza took priority. Nothing was more important than saving her.
Anxiety took firm hold on her as she entered the elevator, making her fingers fumble and hit the button for the wrong floor, which thankfully was above the DSS offices so she quickly hit the right one and sucked in a deep breath, battling the sting of tears as the elevator began its ascent.
When she burst into the reception area, Zack was waiting, a grim, intense expression on his face. Not surprising since he would have tagged her arrival on the security cams and seen she was in distress.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, pulling her into his arms, his entire body rigid, his hands and eyes roving over her body as if searching for a sign of injury.
“Where are the others?” she asked, ignoring his question.
His look became puzzled. “In the conference room.”
“Let’s go,” she said firmly, pushing her way past him.
“Gracie.”
She ignored him, struggling to keep it together.
“In the conference room!” she shrieked, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
His earlier look of worry and confusion turned to a look that would scare even the baddest-ass person alive. He gave her a clipped nod but tucked her hand gently into his and followed her toward the conference room.
When they entered, everyone was there and standing, alert, concerned and wary. Angry. Not at her but at whatever had caused her upset. Four of the men she didn’t even recognize, though she vaguely recalled Zack mentioning new hires.
Her gaze found Dane’s and his expression gentled though his eyes were full of worry.
“It’s Eliza,” she blurted. Thrusting the letter in his direction, she said, “She’s on a suicide mission!”
And then she burst into tears, no longer able to maintain any semblance of her composure.
Even so, she didn’t miss the initial shock reflected on an entire room full of men’s faces rapidly dissipate to cold fury nor the fact that a tangible sensation of a dozen pissed off, worried, ultimate alpha warriors sizzled and crackled as if an actual flame had been lit.
And oddly, Dane paled, guilt flickering in his eyes and he looked as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. He looked absolutely sick. As sick as Gracie was when she wondered if she was too late and Eliza had already been taken from the people who considered her family.
Dane took the wrinkled envelope from Gracie’s shaking hand, dread filling his entire soul. Flashes of the way Eliza had been acting prior to her asking for downtime—a vacation he knew was bullshit—repeated over and over in his mind. Their last conversation echoing in his ears and him knowing—fucking knowing—that Eliza wasn’t telling him everything and the helplessness that had gripped him, remembering the sensation of her slipping through his fingers, knowing she was pulling away—had been pulling away for days leading up to her official sit-down with him in his office.
His gut never steered him wrong and he’d known something was wrong but had also known his hands were tied because he couldn’t overtly act on that knowledge or he’d lose her. They’d all lose her. Calling Wade Sterling so at least someone would be looking out for her. All of that subterfuge because he’d feared losing her and if Gracie’s reaction, her bald statement, was true then he’d lost her anyway.
Goddamn it! He’d made an emotional decision and he never made emotional decisions. But with Lizzie, he had and he’d fucked up. He stared frozen at the envelope, terrified to open it but time was of the essence and he had to know what they were up against. Had to know if it was too late to rectify the biggest mistake of his life.
He fumbled with the paper, his hands shaking so badly it took several tries before he managed to get the letter out of the envelope and unfold it so he could read it. Everyone was tense, alert and expectant. Impatient. All staring at him and waiting, all fearing the worst.
He quickly scanned over Eliza’s handwriting, usually neat, elegant and feminine. What he saw now was barely legible, hastily scrawled words that he had to read multiple times