That's Grace. Defiant to the end.
But God, what did that cost her?
"What did Flint do?" I have to know. Have to hear it even though I don't want to.
Siren's face falls. "He told one of his brothers to knock her out. She tried to fight—kicked, scratched, everything—but they held her down and hit her. Hard. She went down. They carried her to one of the bikes. Put her on it, unconscious. And they left."
She's crying again, guilt and rage mixing together. "I should've shot him. Should've taken the risk. Should've?—"
"You kept her alive," Phantom says, his voice softer than I've heard it in days. "That's what matters. She's alive. We can work with her being alive."
"How long ago?" I ask, though I already know roughly. Need the exact number.
Siren checks her phone. "Thirty-five minutes. They left at 9:22."
Thirty-five minutes. They have a thirty-five minute head start.
On motorcycles, that could put them fifty, sixty miles away. Depending on direction, speed, and destination.
Too far.
Not far enough that we can't catch them, but too far for comfort.
Charlie's suddenly at my feet, whining, pushing her cone-covered head against my leg.
She's trembling, distressed, looking for Grace and not finding her.
I crouch down, and she immediately tries to climb into my lap, desperate for comfort.
For something familiar. For her person who isn't here.
"I know, girl," I murmur, scratching behind her ears the way Grace does. The way Grace showed me. "I know she's gone. But I'm going to bring her back. I promise you. I'm going to bring her home."
Charlie whines again, a heartbreaking sound, and licks my hand.
This dog trusts me to find Grace.
Grace trusts me to find her.
I can't fail them.
Damon's organizing brothers inside the clubhouse, his voice carrying through the open door. Pulling out maps, making calls, and mobilizing resources.
I stand, leaving Charlie with Sakura who wraps an arm around the dog, and head inside.
It’s time to hunt.
The room where they hold church is pure and complete madness.
Maps spread across every surface—tables, the bar, even the floor.
Phones everywhere, brothers on calls, coordinating, gathering intelligence.
The energy is focused, even if it is chaotic.
Everyone is working toward one goal.
Finding Grace.
