Who's been taken by a man who threatened to cage her like an animal.
Banshee's braced against the dashboard, white-knuckled, gripping the handle above the door.
But he doesn't tell me to slow down. Doesn't say a word about the near-misses with other cars or the way I'm driving like death doesn't matter.
Because right now, it doesn't.
Nothing matters except Grace.
"Shadow—"
"Don't." My voice is raw, broken glass. "Don't tell me it's going to be okay. Don't tell me we'll find her. Don't tell me she's strong or she'll hold on or any of that shit because I can't—I can't fuckin’ hear it right now."
"I was going to say you need to breathe before you pass out and crash this truck."
I realize I'm holding my breath, my chest tight, my vision starting to tunnel at the edges.
Force myself to inhale. Once. Twice.
It doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
Grace is gone. Flint has her.
Is she awake? Is she hurt? Is she terrified?
My wife. My Grace. The woman who marked herself with my name.
Who chose me. Who trusted me to protect her.
And I left her.
"We'll get her back," Banshee says quietly, his voice steady despite the chaos of my driving.
"I left her." My hands are shaking on the wheel, making the truck wobble. "I fucking left her there with three prospects and two women. Against ten Copperhead Kings. What the fuck was I thinking?"
"You were thinking Flint would be at the meet. That the threat would be there, not at the compound. That's what any of us would've thought."
"I should've known better." I take a corner too fast, tires screaming, the truck tilting dangerously. "He called her. Threatened her directly. And I still left her. I should've stayed. Should've kept her with me. Should've?—"
"Shadow, if you'd been there, you'd be dead." Banshee's voice is harsh now, cutting through my spiral. "They had ten armed men. They came specifically to take her. You standing in front of her just means they'd have shot you first, then taken her anyway. You being dead doesn't help her."
The logic penetrates through the haze of panic and rage.
He's right, but it doesn't make the guilt any less crushing.
My phone rings again, the sound shrill in the enclosed space of the truck.
Phantom.
I answer, keep one hand on the wheel. "Yeah?"
"How far out are you?" His voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the fear underneath. The same fear I'm feeling.
"Ten minutes. Maybe less if I don't get pulled over." I blow through another red light, horns blaring behind me.
"Siren said they headed west. We need to figure out where they're taking her. Get GPS tracking, traffic cameras, anything. Every second counts."
