The words came out ice-cold, sharper than I intended, but I didn’t regret them. If there was one thing I hated, it was someone using the pregnancy card as a means to manipulate. It made me cruel. Maybe she deserved better words, but the moment Kristin’s name lit my phone, she was already gone from my world.
The call had been quick, but it left my chest aching. Three years of silence, and then her voice breaking through, raw with tears and fear. That was all it took. One call, and I knew this would be the last time I ever let her sound like that.
I zipped the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out without another glance.
The hallway was narrow and silent except for the hum of the vending machine at the far end. I moved fast, boots heavy against the carpet, heart hammering like I was already halfway to her. The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. My reflection stared back at me in the polished steel, jaw tight, eyes hard, face drawn with something between rage and dread.
The elevator hummed on the way down. Each floor light blinked too slowly. When the doors opened, I cut across the lobby, ignoring the bored glances from the night staff. The place smelled like stale air freshener and spilled liquor.
I stopped at the front desk and leaned in just enough for the receptionist to hear me over the click of her keyboard.
“I’m checking out. Woman in my room can stay the night, but the bill ends tonight. After that, she’s on her own.”
The receptionist blinked, startled, then nodded. I didn’t wait for a reply.
Outside, the air was cold and wet, city neon bleeding into puddles along the curb. The valet already had my rental pulled up front. Maybe they’d been warned. Maybe I just looked likea man who needed his truck ready before he burned the place down. I tossed the kid a tip and slid behind the wheel.
The city was a blur of light and shadow. The hour was deep enough that traffic was thin, the streets mostly empty. Perfect. I gripped the steering wheel tight, leather biting into my palms. The hum of the tires filled the cab, steady and fast. My pulse thudded in my throat, my body already coiled for whatever waited.
If I’d needed to, I would’ve called Ryder and had him hack every traffic light green just to keep me moving, but luck was on my side tonight.
Kristin’s trailer showed up on the tracker still parked at the boarding center. Yeah, maybe it was obsessive, keeping tabs on her even after three years. But I’d known, deep down, that one day she’d need me. One day she’d call. And I wasn’t about to be caught flat-footed when that day came.
“Call Kristin,” I ordered, my voice rough.
The line clicked, static cutting in, and then her voice came through, soft and trembling. “Linc?”
The way she said my name nearly buckled me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, knuckles white on the wheel.
“Yeah,” she sniffled. A lie.
“Where is he?”
“Still in the living quarters, I think.” Her voice wavered like she was turning her head, listening.
“Where are you?”
“I thought you always knew where I was.” Her voice cracked, and for a second, despite the fear, there was that same playful edge she used to cut me with.
I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth. “Kristin,” I growled, low.
“In the stock trailer,” she admitted.
“Good. Stay there. Are you carrying?”
“No,” she said, small and guilty, like she hated admitting it.
My foot slammed the accelerator to the floor. The truck roared, engine straining. I didn’t give a damn about the speed limit. Hell, part of me wanted flashing lights behind me. Let them try to stop me. It’d be safer for him if they did.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I promised.
“Hurry, Linc.”
That plea shredded something inside me. I should’ve chased her three years ago. Should’ve fought harder. Instead, I let her go, told myself it was for her good, that she deserved better. But all I’d done was leave her to fend for herself against men like him.
I pressed harder on the gas, the truck eating up the highway. The lights of the city fell away, replaced by open road, dark fields flashing by on either side. The night smelled of wet asphalt and pine. My pulse synced with the rhythm of the tires. Every minute stretched too long. Every shadow looked like it might be him.
