Mills's POV
My ribs feel like someone used them for batting practice. Every breath hurts, but I'm not about to admit that to anyone. Not when Derek's voice just came through that phone sounding like a f*****g robot.
"That's not Derek," I say, watching Kira's face go white. "Not anymore."
Damon takes the phone from her hands. His jaw is tight, wolf probably screaming inside his head. "What do you want?"
"We want to talk." Derek's voice again, but wrong. So f*****g wrong. "Face to face."
"Where?"
"You know where."
The line goes dead. Kira looks like she's about to throw up.
"They have him," she whispers.
"They had him," I correct. "Now they've got something else wearing his face."
Harsh? Maybe. But sugarcoating this s**t won't help anyone.
My laptop is still in my bag, thank God.
