“Are Frey and your brother still outside?”
Oscar shrugged. “Probably. Maybe Freya’s reaming his as—er, butt”—his gaze shot to the girls who were lying on the carpet with Finn—“for being such a douche.”
He frowned. They’d been gone a long time. At least fifteen minutes.
He rose from the couch, a knot of worry growing in his belly. “I’m just gonna go and check on them?—”
The door to the garage swung open with a bang. Axel stumbled inside, his front covered in snow, blood pouring down the side of his face. For a split second, he swayed, and then his knees buckled.
Xander’s insides turned to ice, and he sprinted forward, grunting when he caught the guy. “Finn!” he called out before setting Axel down on the floor. “Look at me, man. Where’s Freya?”
He held his breath as Axel shook his head, his eyes unfocused.
“Move over,” Finn said, nudging Xander to the side. While he tended to his brother, he called out, “Jasper, get the girls upstairs. Os, call 911.”
“Fuck!” Xander bolted out the garage door.
He stepped onto the driveway, he noticed footprints leading to the side of the house and then around back. It took everything he had to not run to the back of the house. He had to think, had to be careful of where he stepped.
Dread and anger pumped through his veins as he reached the back of the house.
Nothing.
No Freya.
The snow was disturbed. There was a large patch flattened where Axel must have fallen. He spotted blood staining the pristine snow, and his stomach twisted. Was it Axel’s or Freya’s?
His fists clenched.Focus, Bonetti. Assess first, then act.Blowing out a breath, he scanned the area.
His eyes narrowed when he saw another set of footprints in the snow, along with dark drops of blood. They led from the back of the house to the street. To an empty space that was void of snow, minus a new dusting that was trying to stick. It was where the car that had taken Freya had sat.
The sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
With trembling hands, he yanked out his phone. He quickly took photos of the footprints and blood splatters. Careful to retrace his earlier steps, he made his way to the sidewalk and took photos of the tire treads in the snow. Within seconds, he’d sent all the photos to his team, then he dialed Frazier.
The phone rang once. “Talk to me, brother.”
“Someone’s got her, man.” A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed past it. “Someone fucking took her.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Adull pounding grew louder. Freya winced at the noise, wishing whoever was blaring their stereo would turn down the volume.
She groaned and then gasped as the pounding became more painful.
Ice-cold water splashed over her face, and her eyes flew open. She winced as her head throbbed in time with her racing heart.
“Hello there,” the man before her said, his voice eerily chipper.
Though he wasn’t wearing a ski mask, she knew he was the man who’d hurt Axel, who’d knocked her out. The dead eyes she’d gotten a glimpse of were the same.
He set the orange bucket down, and bile rose in her throat as he assessed her. “It’s been a long time, Freya, but it’s good to see you up close and personal again.”
It was as if her mind was swimming through mud. He looked vaguely familiar, but considering she saw dozens of new faces each week, she had no clue. Aside from his eyes—a dark brown that was nearly black—he looked like every other guy that visited the resort. A white guy of medium height with a medium build.He was clean-shaven and had a standard businessman’s haircut that was shorter on the sides and longer on top.
“I can practically see your mind turning as you try to place me.” He stood directly in front of her, unnervingly still. “In due time, Freya. In due time.”
His soft, calm voice had dread pooling in her stomach.
