Zero to Love by Em Petrova Page B

bring him more information on the Free Wills. He knew a sense of powerlessness bigger than he’d ever experienced.
    Whirling, he smashed his knuckles into the wooden door cut into the building. The same door the drunk had stumbled out of. If the alcohol-soaked man spilled from the door now, would Monroe have enough willpower not to feed from him as Keefe had? Anger pulsed in his temples.
    “Your job is to keep her from leaving.”
    “I’ve done that. I can’t hear a whisper from her, so she has to be with the thought catcher.”
    Monroe closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the Hill District where Magda lived. He flew past dozens of people, skimmed over her father. Yes, Magda was silent to him.
    Monroe’s mind snapped back to her father. He’d never bothered to probe Mr. Brunelli’s mind before, but now he saw something similar to Magda’s—holes. Empty corners. Too much fog.
    He shook himself and released the man.
    “Stay with her, Keefe. I’m coming.”
    His SUV waited for him on the corner. In seconds he was speeding through town. As his muscles tensed, his leather shirt creaked. Each breath felt blackened, his anger polluting the air.
    Her father had hurt her. In Monroe’s mind, he saw the man’s fingers digging into his daughter’s arm. He’d seen humans hurt their own blood much worse, but no one was going to lay a hand on Magda.
    Mine.
    Locking his boot to the gas, he flew through two consecutive red lights. He could make them turn green for him, but what was the point? He’d drive through them no matter what the color.
    Numbers and stray thoughts whirred past, but he ignored them. Not even Treason could stop him from reaching Magda—now or ever.
    When he reached the Hill District, the food source changed. The violence up here in the nicer section of town still clotted the air, but it was different. Domestic violence and addiction were concealed behind the doors of upscale houses.
    Monroe gazed at Magda’s home. An older structure with a lot of charm. From here he caught the overwhelming scent of flowers, almost as strong as that coming from a funeral home.
    Giovanni was in his study, head in hands. When Monroe looked into Giovanni’s brain to see why he surrounded himself with flowers, Monroe found nothing.
    Keefe paced the front of the house below Magda’s bedroom window, clinging to the shadows to avoid suspicion as only a Mindchanger could.
    “She hasn’t left. I can’t hear her at all. It’s driving me crazy.” Keefe raked his hands through his long black hair. The leather shirt he wore had no sleeves and was skintight, revealing that he was packing several knives and a handgun. His left arm was tattooed from shoulder to wrist, and the colors undulated as if the images were alive.
    “Tell me about it.” Monroe looked up at the window. Darkness shrouded the street, which was good because there was no nosy neighbor who might see Mindchangers in the area and alert Giovanni. Monroe didn’t want to involve the man. He might have housed Magda for a lifetime, but now she belonged with Monroe.
    “We’re going in and taking her,” Keefe said, a grin stretching on his face.
    “Yes, we are.”
    “I thought you’d never fucking ask.”
    “You make sure the old man doesn’t see us. If he does, wipe it out.”
    “Never thought I’d hear you say that, man.”
    “Yeah, well, things are changing.” Monroe walked up to the front door and probed the lock with his mind: 2982 . He rearranged the numerals to align correctly, and the lock sprang.
    “Don’t take anything unnecessarily,” he cautioned Keefe. If Giovanni walked out, Keefe, who was not so controlled as Monroe, would lock gazes with the man and feed.
    “I hear ya. You’re not any fun, but I hear ya.” Keefe entered the house behind him.
    The space was filled with low numbers. Wood, cotton, linen. Some stone and a bit of glass—but only the purest kind. Though the antique furniture and fancy decor weren’t the perfect