“You’ve always been clever,” he said conversationally, admiration laced with venom. “The way you disappeared—the new name, the new life. Impressive. I almost applauded when I realized how well you’d planned it.”
He sipped, savoring the taste. “But you forgot one thing, Caitlin. Me.”
Her stomach turned.
Jason tilted his head, studying her like a builder inspecting a finished project. “And it almost worked. Your precious Izzy—loyal, stubborn, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. She ruined everything. She led them straight to you.”
He smiled faintly, but the warmth never reached his eyes. “Not that it matters now. Evan took care of her—pushed her right over a cliff.”
The words hit like a bullet. Hope bled away, leaving only guilt and the cold certainty that she had caused it all.
Izzy—laughing, fierce, loyal. Then falling, broken, gone.
Caitlin froze. The scream caught, refusing to escape. Darkness closed in.
When she woke again, sunlight poured through the curtains, warming the rough wood floor. Jason was gone; a kettle whistled in another room.
Her head pounded. The floor bit cold against her soles. Without shoes, even if she ran, she wouldn’t make it far over jagged bluffs and rocky roads. He had thought of everything.
Her mind churned—half on Izzy, half on Burke.Poor Burke. His steady eyes, his voice wrapping her in safety. Is he frantic now? Searching?
She bowed her head and sobbed into her hands, grief for Izzy and terror for herself shredding what remained of her resolve.
Jason returned, composed as ever, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He set it on the nightstand like the perfect host.
“You can cry if it helps,” he said calmly. “But it won’t change a thing.” He smiled. “You belong to me, Caitlin. Always have.”
She let the tears come because he expected them—it was easier than letting him see what was really behind them.
The door stayed ajar, as if daring her to try. Caitlin closed her eyes. The hate burned—patient, fierce. Someday soon, it would be her weapon.
Chapter 46
Search
Tessa’s Tactical Team
The convoy crawled up the ridge road like a hunting pack—blue strobes off, engines low.
Burke’s truck led, Rosie pressed to the passenger door, alert. Behind him, Tessa Quinn commanded SBI’s tactical team, Parker’s voice crackling through the radio as he coordinated the perimeter.
They’d spotted the black Tahoe hours earlier, tucked beneath pine limbs at the end of Ridge Bluff Lane. Fog curled along the ground, night clinging to the trees.
Burke’s hands locked on the wheel. Her laugh flashed through his mind—a sound he’d die before letting Jason silence. He would not lose her.
“This is it,” Parker said. “No movement yet. Drone caught a heat signature earlier—maybe him, maybe her.”
“Could be both,” Burke answered. “Hold perimeter. We’re going in.”
Scout pulled in behind him, followed by two SBI agents and a pair of deputies on foot. The cabin ahead was weathered, tin roof patched, chimney cold. The Tahoe crouched in the shadows.
Burke stepped out, rifle ready. Rosie leapt down, ears pricked.
“Positions Alpha through Delta,” Tessa ordered. “Confirm eyes on the cabin.”
They moved with practiced silence. Scout circled right with two deputies; Tessa flanked left. Rosie stayed at Burke’s heel, nose working the air.
At Burke’s signal, Scout kicked the door. The lock splintered.
