Folded once. Placed deliberately on the counter where I couldn’t miss it.
My hands shook when I picked it up.
I need to do this my way.
I love you.
Trust me.
The room tilted.
“No,” I breathed.
I was already reaching for my comms, my mind racing ahead of my body, cataloging possibilities. No alarms. No gunfire. No forced entry.
She hadn’t been taken.
She’dleft.
“Havoc,” I snapped into the mic. “Status. Now.”
Static for half a second—too long.
Then: “Perimeter clear. No breach.”
“She’s gone,” I said. “Rylie’s gone.”
Silence exploded into motion.
Boots hit the porch outside. A door opened hard. Havoc was in the cabin seconds later, eyes scanning, reading the room instantly.
“She walked,” he said. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
I held up the note.
Havoc swore under his breath, low and vicious. “She didn’t trigger sensors.”
“She wouldn’t,” I said. My chest felt like it was caving in. “She knows how we think.”
I grabbed my jacket and my weapon in one motion. “Track her phone.”
Havoc was already on it. “Signal came on briefly about twenty minutes ago. Then went dark again.”
Twenty minutes.
That was a lifetime.
That was a head start.
Saint’s voice cut in over comms, sharp now. “Trigger, say again.”
“She made contact,” I said. “With Thomas.”
The words tasted like failure.
