The realization hits like a second abduction. It’s sudden, violent, and undeniable. I’m in love with Mack Hawthorne, the grumpy, protocol-obsessed ex-military man who showed up to guard my body and ended up stealing my heart instead. Just a few days. That’s all it took. A few days of banter and danger and filthy promises whispered against my skin, and now the thought of never seeing him again feels like dying.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears tracking down my cheeks. Please, Mack. Please find the ribbon. Please be looking. Please don’t let this be the end.
The van hits a pothole hard enough to knock the breath out of me. Viola whimpers. I tighten my hold.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice tiny and broken. “This is my fault. Rico… he said he needed help with the van money, but I didn’t know—he must’ve?—”
“Stop.” I cut her off gently, pressing my forehead harder against hers. “This isn’t on you. None of it. You’re my sister. I’d walk through fire for you. Always have.”
She hiccups a sob. “I love you, Indie.”
“I love you too, Vi. More than anything.”
The van slows, turns sharply. Gravel crunches under the tires. We’re stopping.
Panic spikes fresh and bright.
Doors slam. Footsteps. The back doors yank open.
Rico’s silhouette blocks the streetlight. His grin is all crooked and wrong.
“Time to move, ladies.”
I glare up at him, fury drowning the fear for one blazing second. “You’re dead when he finds you.”
Rico laughs. “Your boyfriend? He’s busy cleaning up confetti. By the time he figures it out, you’ll both be long gone.”
He reaches in, grabs my arm, and hauls me out. Viola cries out as another man drags her after me.
They shove us toward a rusted warehouse door. Darkness waits inside.
I hold Viola’s hand as tightly as the zip ties allow.
And in my head, over and over, one desperate plea…
Find me, Mack.
Please.
Find me.
TEN
MACK
The Gilded Hart Hotel’s loading dock alley is a war zone of flashing lights and shouting voices when I burst through the service door. Heartline’s black SUVs are already blocking both ends, red and blue strobes cutting through the night from the local PD cruisers that rolled in minutes behind Cass’s team. The air smells like burnt wiring and panic sweat. My boots pound concrete as I scan every shadow, every corner, gun drawn low and ready.
Cass meets me halfway, tactical vest strapped tight, comms earpiece glowing blue. “Mack. Perimeter’s locked. No sign of the principal or the sister yet. Witnesses say two women matching descriptions were dragged into a black panel van—plates obscured. Happened maybe five minutes ago.”
Five minutes. A lifetime in a snatch-and-grab. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
“Indigo,” I rasp, the name tasting like blood. “She was right here. I had her. Then the crowd?—”
Cass grips my shoulder, hard. “We’ll get her back. Focus. You good?”
No. I’m not good. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been since the day we got the call about Dad. But fear doesn’t get people home. Training does. I force a nod. “I’m good. Let’s move.”
We fan out—Heartline operators sweeping the dock, flashlights carving paths through the debris of dropped purses, shattered champagne flutes, and glitter that still clings to everything like fallout. I head straight for the spot where I last saw her silhouette disappear into the throng. My eyes drop to the ground near the open bay doors.
