Noah lifted a small remote from the table and pointed it at the wall monitor. “There’s a problem.”
The screen flickered to life, filling the glass wall with the mugshot of Dexter Westbrook. His cold eyes stared out from the photo, his expression a mask of contempt.
The air suddenly seemed to thin, and for a second she was back in that warehouse. The heat licking her skin. The pain tearing through her abdomen. David’s shout cutting off in a sickening crack of gunfire.
Her scar burned as if the wound had just been carved open again.
She forced herself to breathe, to stay rooted in the office and not in the nightmare clawing at her mind.
Across the table, Cal shifted. She saw the tightness around his eyes, the way his jaw flexed as he stared at the screen. He winced, subtle but unmistakable.
Of course he did. He wasn’t immune to Dexter’s face, not after what had happened.
No way he could be.
Cal had lost just as much as David and she had that night. The blast and the blood had stolen their future just as surely as it had stolen her brother’s health. Six years ago, inside that warehouse, Dexter had destroyed them all.
Noah’s voice was steady as he clicked the remote again. The mugshot disappeared, replaced by the image of a sprawling compound hemmed in by razor wire and watchtowers.
“After Dexter’s arrest six years ago, he was transferred to Blackrock State Penitentiary,” Noah said. “Maximum security. Supposed to be airtight.”
Another click of the remote. The picture shifted to grainy photos of a stark medical clinic. The white tile floors were smeared with blood, and a body lay crumpled near an overturned cart. A man in scrubs. His throat had been cut, his face slack in death.
Alena’s stomach lurched. Her hands tightened against the arms of her chair, nails biting into the leather.
“This was about eight hours ago,” Noah continued, his tone grim. “Around three in the morning. The victim is a nurse assigned to the night shift.” He paused, drawing in a breath that seemed to weigh him down. When he spoke again, his words landed like a hammer. “Dexter escaped.”
The room tilted around Alena, the edges of her vision swimming. For a moment she was back in that warehouse, choking on smoke, bleeding out on the floor. David lying nearby, his head wound turning her world to rubble. Dexter had stolen too much already.
Across the table, Cal cursed under his breath. The sound was harsh, filled with a fury that matched the storm inside her.
Alena swallowed hard, locking her gaze on the crime scene photo even though every instinct screamed to look away. The monster who had broken them was free again.
“How the hell did this happen?” Cal demanded.
Noah clicked the remote, shifting the screen to a photo of a shattered security gate and the parking lot beyond. “Dexter assaulted the nurse, stole his identification badge, and walked out of the medical unit. He triggered an emergency call for an inmate transfer, claiming the patient needed to be taken to the hospital. The staff on duty were short-handed. The guard at the exit barely looked twice.”
Alena clenched her hands in her lap. She could see it unfolding, step by step, Dexter’s arrogance carrying him past every layer of security.
“He used the nurse’s ID to access the staff parking area,” Noah went on. “Took the man’s car. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, he was already gone. The state police set up roadblocks, but there has been no trace of him since.”
A cold weight pressed down on Alena’s chest. Blackrock was hours away, yet she felt the shadow of Dexter creeping into this very room.
“He should never have made it out of there,” Cal said, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut.
Noah shut off the monitor, the screen going dark. “And yet he did.”
Alena stared at the black glass, her reflection pale and tight with dread. Dexter was out, and that meant the past she had fought to bury was about to claw its way back into her life.
Noah set the remote down on the table. “I didn’t find out about the escape until about half an hour ago.”
Cal’s gaze hardened. “So Dexter’s been on the run for eight hours.” His tone made the words sound like a curse. “Do the cops have any idea where he is?”
Noah shook his head. “Nothing solid. They’re running down leads, but so far he’s vanished.”
“He’ll come after us,” she said, the words rough in her throat. The next thought slammed her harder. “He’ll go after David.”
Her hand shot to her phone, already pulling it free, ready to dial.
