“What’s that?” a sharp voice calls as I start to head back to my room.
I freeze in place and turn to find Bones glaring at me over the rim of his mask. I turn and hold up the box.
“It was on the porch, and it’s addressed to me,” I reply softly, unease turning in my gut the longer he stares at me.
Phantom is on his feet a moment later, closing the distance between us and pulling the box out of my hands. “No one is supposed to know you’re here,” he says sharply.
I flush and look away, my spine curling. He sighs and sets the box on the island counter, inspecting it from every angle. He’s right, of course. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. He shakes the box and nothing shifts inside it, at least not that I can hear. Siren steps beside him, blocking my view in a way that almost feels intentional. But I keep quiet and step back, pressing against the opposite counter to be out of the way. Phantom flicks open a knife at his side, and cuts open the tape, the entire room going quiet. But as he opens the flaps, he lets out a confused noise.
“What the hell,” he mutters.
Unable to take it, I move over to his other side, looking at the contents of the box. But I regret it instantly, letting out a scream before sprinting out of the room.
Chapter thirty
Ipullopenthebox flaps, prepared for anything. We have a lot of enemies, and Delilah shouldn’t have brought this in the house. But it’s too late now, and it doesn’t sound or feel like any parcel bomb I’ve ever seen.
As the last flap opens, I let out a grunt of confusion. Sitting among a nest of scraps of fabric is a stuffed animal, a rabbit. The seam is torn at the neck and it’s absolutely filthy, a muddy, reddish-brown color worked into every fiber of the toy’s fur. But there isn’t a note immediately visible to indicate who might have sent this weird package to our door.
Delilah moves to my side, looking past me, her light scent meeting my nose. It’s a little ashy today, but it isn’t particularly unpleasant. But that scentturns to sour milk and charred fruits as she lets out a scream loud enough to wake the dead before taking off back down the hallway.
“Delilah!” Joker shouts after her, trying to run, but Bones has a hand on his arm.
“Let her go. What’s that?” the alpha says, getting to his feet to look.
Joker snarls and rips his arm free and goes after the other omega without looking back. Cross joins us at the island, and they share the same confused look I’m sure I have on my face. Cross reaches into the box carefully, his fingers sliding under the body of the stuffed rabbit, lifting it carefully. I duck down and nod for him to continue, not seeing any tethers or wires coming from the back. But as he lifts, the head of the rabbit rolls off, bouncing twice on the island before stopping.
“Wait, is that…” Bones starts, leaning in and sniffing the rabbit. “That’s blood.”
I feel the color drain from my face as I look at the headless rabbit again, mouth dropping open. On the second glance, what I thought was just dirty, slightly matted brown fuzz turns out to be dried blood that’s soaked into the material.
Siren lifts one of the scraps of material from the box, holding it to their face and smelling it, their eyes going wide.
“This…this was hers,” they mutter hoarsely.
I grab another scrap and smell it, and sure enough, there are faint traces of several scents on the fabric, but the strongest of them all is the soft jasmine and chocolate scent I’ve detected a handful of times coming off Delilah.
“What in the holy hell is this?” I mutter, more confused than ever.
“I don’t know. And she said it was just sitting on the front porch?” Cross asks.
Siren nods beside me, but then goes stiff, sucking in a sharp breath. “Does anyone remember how her old pack died?”
We’re all silent for a moment, and then Cross lets out a creative cuss, dropping the rabbit body onto the counter. “They were beheaded. Do you think…”
Bones snarls, a low, dangerous sound before he turns toward the hallway.
“Omegas. Here. Now.”
His shouted bark sends a cold shiver down my spine, and I’m not even experiencing the full force of it. There are several long moments of silence before we hear a single set of footsteps getting louder. When I look, I see Joker cradling Delilahin his arms, her face pressed to his shoulder and visibly shaking. And Joker, for his part, is glaring daggers at Bones.
“What,” he snaps, not moving from the doorway, the minimum requirement to fulfill the compulsion of the order.
“Explain,” Bones snaps, hardly sounding human with the way his growl is distorting his words.
Delilah squeaks and sniffles, clinging tighter to Joker’s throat as she tries to move away from Bones.
“Take a lap, Mav. Before you do more harm than good,” I say, protective instincts flaring hot.