I power it on, thumbprint, codes, and the app opens. Searching… searching…
My heart flatlines.
“No signal,” Declan mutters.
“Ours or hers?” I bark at Connor.
He snatches the phone, fingers flying. “Ours is dead. Hers… maybe just out of range.”
I’m already moving. “Get in.”
Doors slam. I floor it, tyres screaming, Kaden beside me holding the phone like it’s her heartbeat. The Callaghans fall in behind.
Five minutes to the main road feels like five years.
“Got it!” Kaden’s voice cracks the silence.
I yank the wheel, skid off-road, kill the engine. We crowd the screen. One tiny red dot pulses in the black heart of nowhere; it’s far.
“We’re taking the bikes,” I roar.
No one argues.
We hit Declan’s estate at triple digits, burst into the garage. Five matte-black beasts wait in a row. I drag on the spare leather jacket, zip it over the hoodie, snap the helmet down. The visor turns the world blood-red.
Viviana runs, eyes red, clutching Declan’s spare key. She presses it into my gloved hand.
“Kill him,” she whispers, tears cutting tracks through the dust on her cheeks. “Make him beg.”
I nod once.
Declan pulls her in, kisses her fiercely. “Love you, Firecracker.”
Engines roar awake, deep, guttural thunder that shakes bone. I twist the throttle, and the bike lunges forward like it’s starving.
We tear out of the gates in perfect formation, five shadows eating the night. I lead, knees inches from asphalt, wind howling past the visor. The red dot burns on the phone strapped to the tank.
One hour? Fuck that.
I’ll be there in thirty.
Hang on, trouble.
I’m coming, and hell is riding right behind me.
We ditched the bikes a while back; the roar would announce us like war drums. The forest swallows every sound except our breathing.
Declan whistles once, low. A single cottage glows ahead, warm light spilling from the windows, thin smoke curling from the chimney like it’s a fucking honeymoon.
We drop to our stomach, and crawl.
Kian reaches the first window, peers in, shakes his head.
I slide to the next. One look inside and the world narrows to a single red pulse in my skull.
Blood on the pine floorboards, not a pool, just streaks and smears, fresh and bright. Enough to tell me someone bled. Enough to tell me it could be hers.
A pebble taps my boot. Declan jerks his chin to the bedroom window.
