It barely rings once before he answers. “Hey—”
“She took him,” I say, but the voice that comes out feels borrowed “Ashley. She took Bash.”
Saying her name makes my throat close up.
“What?” Hex’s voice shifts immediately. No more softness. Just steel. “Where are you?”
“At the school. Car line. His teacher said Demi picked him up. But it wasn’t her. She had an ID with her name, blonde hair—but it wasn’t Demi. Hex, it was Ashley. I know it.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way. Send me your location. I’m getting JT on her now. We’ll find them.”
“I should’ve come earlier. I could’ve prevented this—”
“Stop. None of that,” he snaps, low and firm. “She’s the one who did this. Not you.”
My breath stutters out of me. I’m already picturing the worst. Bash in some strange car. Ashley’s voice in his ear. Her hands on him. My stomach twists so hard I nearly gag from the nausea.
“I should’ve known she’d try something today,” I whisper. “I felt it.”
“And now we know,” Hex says. “And I swear to you, we’ll get him back.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it. My fingers fly to share my location, heart in my throat. The sound of Hex’s truck roaring in the background is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
“JT’s already moving,” he tells me. “We’ll get her location as well. Just sit tight. I’ve got you.”
But I’m not sure I can sit still. Not with every part of me screaming to run. To fight. To tear the world apart until my son is back in my arms.
Because Ashley didn’t just take him.
She declared war.
“I’ve got her location,” Hex says, still on the line. “She’s at the park off Meadow Ridge. Two blocks from you. I’m ten minutes out.”
My heart lurches.
The park.
That’s where Bash always wants to go after school when the weather’s good. There’s a little trail he likes to run, a jungle gym he’s too big for but still climbs anyway. Our spot.
“Do you have the gun?” Hex asks, his voice clipped now. Controlled. “The one I gave you?”
I pop the glove compartment open with trembling fingers. The case is there, black and smooth, tucked between a wad of tissues and an expired insurance card. I snap it open. My name’s on the registration card tucked inside. Hex made damn sure everything checked out as legal, registered, proper.Safe.
He never gave me that thing lightly.
I wrap my hand around the grip, the cool weight of it anchoring me.
“Yeah,” I say, voice flat. “I’ve got it.”
“Don’t do anything,” he says quickly. “Wait for me.”
“I can’t wait,” I bite out. “She has my son, Hex.”
Silence on the other end. But it’s not because he disagrees. It’s because he knows.
He taught me what to do when the decision’s already made. When waiting isn’t an option.
I hear him exhale. “Call the cops. Tell them what happened. Keep your phone on you. Sable—don’t hesitate.”
