The guy I had pinned went still for half a second as he realized he’d been left behind. Good. I tightened my hold and shoved him down onto his knees.
“Call it in,” I barked to Brody. “Now.”
Brody already had his phone out. “Sheriff’s on the way. Task force is patched in. They’re moving.”
Marisol’s breathing came fast behind me. I turned toward her, my hands hovering as I looked her over. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
She swallowed, her eyes glossy. “I said I’m fine.”
That stubbornness. That pride. It tried to stand up even when fear knocked it flat on its ass. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Look at me.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
“You’re safe,” I said. “You hear me?”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. “I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. People had spilled out of the school now, teachers and parents and office staff staring. I tucked Marisol against my chest, shielding her from view. She sagged into me. Not fighting. Not arguing. Just holding on.
The sheriff’s deputy rolled up first, then another. They took the man off my hands, cuffing him while he kept mouthing off, spitting blood on the pavement.
Brody walked Marisol toward the truck, keeping his body angled between her and the crowd.
I spoke with the deputy, gave him the basics, and handed over the plate Brody had clocked.
“The task force is already on it,” the deputy said, his eyes sharp. “They called us the second the intercept happened.”
“Intercept,” Marisol repeated faintly behind me. “Is that what this was?”
I turned to her. “Wait for me in the truck. Please?”
She didn’t argue. She climbed in on shaky legs, hugging her folder to her chest like it was the only normal thing left.
On the drive back, she didn’t speak. She just stared out the window, her face pale, jaw tight. The silence in the cab felt thick and heavy. I kept my hands steady on the wheel and watched every mirror.
Ten minutes into the drive, her voice broke the quiet. “They waited,” she said.
I glanced at her.
“They waited until I was smiling,” she whispered. “Until I started thinking about apartments and schedules and a normal life.”
My chest tightened. “They waited until you felt safe.”
Her throat bobbed. “They were going to take me.”
“Yes.”
She flinched at my honesty, then swallowed hard. “And Lucas.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or they were going to use you to get to him.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away fast, like she was angry at herself for letting it show.
