Hands in their pockets.Eyes sweeping the block.Slow.Calculated.Like they’re taking inventory.Too alert.Too focused.Too familiar.
My father’s men.
There’s no mistaking it.
Panic grabs me by the throat.I take a sharp step back and duck behind the bush at the edge of the store.The branches bite into my arms as I drop low.My pulse thunders in my ears, my breath quick and shallow.
They haven’t seen me.Not yet.But they’re watching.Waiting.And if they’re here, out in the open like this, then it means one thing.
They know.About Emery.About the cabin.About everything.
Did I lead them to her? Did I just hand her over without even realizing it?
Fuck.
I watch them carefully.They exchange a few quiet words, eyes still scanning, still searching.
One of them checks his watch.Nods to the other.Then they both turn and move down the street, slow, casual, with the kind of swagger that says they’ve got all the time in the world.That says they already know exactly how this ends.
My blood goes cold.And the second they’re out of sight, I’m moving.
Fast.
I shoot out from behind the bush and sprint to the truck.Every nerve in my body on fire and screaming.
My hands shake as I wrench the door open, nearly dropping the bag.
I slide in behind the wheel, heart pounding so loud it drowns out the rest of the world.The engine growls to life, too loud, too slow.I slam my foot on the gas, tires shrieking as I tear out of the parking lot.
"Fuck," I choke, my throat closing tight around the word.Panic claws its way up my spine."Emery."Her name leaves my mouth like a prayer I’m already too late to say.
I'm racing against the clock.Foot slammed down, the engine screaming under me.I blow past every red light, every speed limit, every warning. None of it fucking matters.The only thing that matters is getting back to her before they do.
Because if they touch her… If they even breathe near her…I’ll salt the earth with their blood.
The roads blur around me as I tear through town.Every second slices across my skin—it’s already too fucking late.My hands strangle the wheel, knuckles bone white.
I can’t stop seeing her face.The way she looked at me this morning when I told her I’d be back soon.Trusting me.Believing in me.Counting on me.
The truck fishtails, gravel spitting and skidding behind me.I shove the gas harder, and harder, the tires screaming as I fly around the last curve, the woods closing in fast around me.
The cabin’s close now.Minutes away.Maybe less if I keep pushing.And I fucking do.
Because I don't care if I wrap this truck around a tree.I'll crawl the rest of the goddamn way if I have to.Nothing is stopping me from getting to her.
Branches blur past the windows and then I see it.
Through the trees.
The cabin.
It’s still.
Quiet.Too fucking quiet.
I check my phone—no breach alerts—but I’ve seen them hit other places without a single warning.Just slipped through like ghosts while everyone was asleep.
I kill the engine before I even hit the driveway, letting the truck coast, breath caught in my throat, eyes slicing through every inch of the clearing.Scanning for movement.For shadows.For them.
