Brax joins us by his truck. He slides into the driver’s seat and slams his door. The vehicle is a pressure cooker, holding our emotions. Brax meets my eyes briefly as the truck roars to life. The tires squeal as he steps on the gas, a full-on madman racing against a ticking clock.
Bella is shaking, Rudy keeps wiping his hands on his jeans, and Brax… He’s a man who just walked out of the pits of hell, ready to dance with the devil.
Me?
My thoughts run so fast, I can’t grab a single one of them long enough to ground myself.
My mind is everywhere—the dark woods, hidden tunnels, a disgusting basement. She could be tied up, alone, and terrifiedwhile trying to be brave. I control my breathing, wishing she could hear my thoughts and tell me where she is.
I’m coming, sweetheart.
I focus on her smile, her laugh. The way she reaches for me in her sleep as we pass every streetlight and building, shadows jumping across my lap as we get closer to daylight.
My stomach lurches with every corner Brax cuts, but he doesn’t ease up on the pedals.
My thoughts don’t slow down.
It was him all along, not The Octopus.
Brodie has been the one pulling all of these strings.
How did I miss it?
How was I so completely oblivious to what was happening around me? If I had paid more attention, I could have saved her from this.
Every laugh we’ve shared, every ache and pain, every beer and secret kept—was it a lie? Have I been wearing rose-colored glasses? Or did he just get clever at hiding in plain sight? Were there signs? Tells that were showing me what he was really up to that I missed? Maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough.
My hands turn sweaty, my palms pressing into my knees. Every nerve and muscle is pulled tight. I edge closer to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what’s coming, anything that might give me a clue before we get there, but all I see are shipping containers, stretching row after row ahead of me.
The truck slows.
We’re here.
This must be where Erin is, but fuck, there are so many crates.
Tires crunch the gravel. I grab the edge of my seat, knuckles turning white as my heart plays a delirious, anxious tune. Brax kills the engine, and the silence is suffocating. Bella’s shallow breath stutters. Rudy sniffles, trying to get a hold of himself.
No one speaks. We’re waiting, suspended in the quiet together as dread rains over us.
When other cars arrive, Brax opens his door. We step into the chaos of officers spilling out. They suit up quickly, clipping vests into place, pulling guns from holsters, radios keyed in.
Brax moves with purpose, his gear in place like armor as he scans the containers ahead. “Update on Emerson?” Brax asks his team.
“Still have eyes on him. He’s headed for the tarmac. The team knows what to do. They won’t let the jet leave the blacktop,” an officer responds.
Brax hums. The familiar sound doesn’t comfort me.
If Brodie intends to board a plane with Erin, why are we here? Why aren’t we still on the streets, racing to get to them before it takes off?
Nausea churns in my stomach at those words, but before I have time to question it, Brax speaks.
“Okay, listen up. We don’t know what we’re walking into here. There are hundreds of these shipping containers that we need to check safely and quickly. We have the upper hand since we arrived with no noise and they don’t know we’re here. Keep it that way. Radios should be on at all times. Check in every five minutes. If you find them, donotshoot. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” murmurs his team.
“Stay safe.”
The squad disperses, leaving Brax, Rudy, Bella, and me alone. My ears ring with uncertainty and fear as our footsteps move against gravel.
