Axel was currently in surgery. His skull had been cracked, and according to Oscar, who’d accompanied him to the hospital, the doctors needed to remove a section of his skull to relieve the pressure. The next forty-eight hours were going to be rough.
“If Daddy’s hurt, how did he get to the hospital?”
Finn cleared his throat. “He got to ride in the ambulance.”
She smiled. “Lucky ducky. That’s way more fun than driving.”
“Yeah, lucky.” Finn sighed, pressed a kiss to his niece’s temple, and froze. His gaze swung to Xander. “You said Freya was wearing one of Axel’s garage jackets, right?”
The hairs on Xander’s arms lifted. “Yeah . . .”
“Were there keys in the pocket?”
His heart rate picked up speed. “I don’t know.”
“Shit, hang on.” He winced as he bolted to the garage with Josie on his hip. “I’ll put extra money in the bad-word jar, sweetie.” Seconds later, he was back and set Josie on her feet. “I’ll give you extra dessert for a week if you can find your dad’s phone for me. Go!”
When the girl zoomed out of the kitchen calling her sister’s name, Finn turned to them.
“Axel has a Tile tracker on all his keys. Since the girls like to ‘help’ him in the garage, they always end up losing his keys. So Ax has like five or six key fobs. He keeps a set of keys in his smoking jackets as backup because the girls can’t reach those.”
“Holy shit,” Xander said on an exhale. “If Freya still has that jacket on...”
“We’ll find her, brother,” Wilson repeated. “Hang in there.”
Fifty-five minutes.
It took Bean five minutes to pinpoint the Tile tracker on Axel’s keys and cross-reference it to a remote cabin at the edge of Blanchard Bay. It took fifteen minutes to get the team geared up and loaded, and because of the cabin’s particular location, they had to drive, which took another thirty-five minutes.
Once there, they waited for Bean’s thermal drones for more intel. Xander had thought the drive over had been the longest wait of his life. Nope. Not even close.
“Confirming two heat signatures,” Bean’s steady voice said over their comms. “One moving, one stationary. Stationary is seated. It’s a one-room cabin. Door facing south with only two windows facing east and west.”
“Alpha Two and Three, you’re flash-bangs through the east and west,” Alpha One—Frazier—said. “Hold your positions and make sure he doesn’t try to slip out. Alpha Four, you’re along the north in case there’s an exit we don’t know about. The rest of us will breach through the south door. Acknowledge.”
A chorus of “copy” sounded over the comms.
“Alpha Seven. Not you. You hang back. We’ll signal you to retrieve the package when it’s clear. Confirm.”
Every part of Xander wanted to rebel, to tell Frazier to fuck off. That Freya wasn’t apackage. That he was going to be the first person to enter that damn cabin to get his woman back. But he knew those were his erratic emotions talking. He was currently a loose cannon and that put Freya and his teammates in danger.
Unacceptable.
He let out a deep exhale. “Copy.”
“On my mark,” Bean said. “Ten, nine, eight...”
As she counted off in their ears, everyone moved into position. The whistling wind camouflaged the crunching of their boots in the snow.
Atmark, all hell broke loose.
The sound was deafening, and Xander could only watch as Alpha One, Five, and Six breached the cabin. He wasn’t a praying man, but he sent a prayer up to the universe that Freya was alive. That’s all he wanted. He’d help her through the trauma, but he just needed her alive. Because he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
“Alpha Seven,” Frazier said over the comms. “Come get your girl.”
He’d never moved so fast in his life. As he rushed toward the cabin, he paid no mind to the screaming man lying face down in the doorway, easily pinned by Alpha Six, Wilson.
When Xander neared the doorway, there was a loud thud. The man fell silent.
