She twisted instinctively.
The man’s grip tightened without effort, like he’d expected exactly that.
“Lauren—” Her voice came out thin.
“She’s fine.” He turned her toward the kitchen. “See for yourself.”
He walked her forward, and the kitchen came into view.
Lauren stood near the far counter, her arms wrapped around herself and her face pale as paper.
She wasn’t restrained. She wasn’t hurt.
She wasn’t surprised either.
Rowan’s breath caught at that realization.
A second man stood behind Lauren, one hand resting casually on the counter.
Rowan’s skin crawled. “Lauren?”
Lauren’s eyes found Rowan’s.
It wasn’t just fear there, but something layered underneath it. Something that looked uncomfortably like guilt.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren whispered. “They said they’d kill him if I didn’t—” Her voice broke. “Ben. They have Ben.”
The first man steered Rowan toward a kitchen chair and pressed down on her shoulders until she sat.
She didn’t fight it. Her mind moved too fast to settle on any one response.
“I did what you asked.” Lauren turned toward the second man, her voice cracking at the edges. “I brought her here. Now please—you said you’d let him go.”
The second man said nothing.
The first crouched in front of Rowan, unhurried, professional. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced an orange prescription bottle, setting it on the table between them with a small, deliberate click.
These guys were professionals. She knew it in her gut.
There was no way they’d leave any witnesses.
Rowan stared at it.
Her name stared back on the label.
It was her anxiety prescription—the one she’d had filled six weeks ago. The ones she’d gotten because of Vince.
Vince had known she took those pills. He’d seen her taking one once.
But where . . . ?
Her purse, she realized. Someone must have taken them from her purse when she wasn’t looking. Maybe while she was in town on one of her visits. It was the only thing that made sense.
Now the bottle sat on her mother’s kitchen table like a prop in a scene that had already been written.
The man reached into his other pocket and unfolded a sheet of paper, smoothing it flat on the table beside the bottle.
“What’s that?” Rowan asked, though some cold part of her already understood.
