“A boathouse.”
“That’s it,” Dev said, confident. “Location?”
“Industrial inlet on the south side. Water access. Fifteen minutes from where the boat was ditched.”
“Pull it up,” Leland said.
A map flashed onto the console, route plotted.
He didn’t wait. Didn’t ask. Gravel sprayed under the tires as he pulled out. The other vehicles falling in behind him, moving with one purpose.
Leland drove fast. The road blurred beneath them, lights streaking past as the city opened up ahead. But no one told him to slow down.
“Everyone converges,” Dev said. “We do not go in blind.”
Leland didn’t answer. Because blind or not, he was going in.
Beneath the adrenaline and narrowed focus driving him forward, the urgency, other thoughts forced their way in. Julia in his kitchen laughing. Arguing. Standing in his shower with her arms wrapped around him like he was worth fighting for.
He swallowed hard, grip tightening painfully on the wheel. He’d had the time, the chance, and said nothing when it mattered.
His gaze locked on the road ahead, unblinking.
“Hold on,” he muttered under his breath.
Whether it was for her or for himself, he didn’t know.
But he wasn’t too late. He refused to be too late. Not again. Not this time.
***
Consciousness returned slowly. Sound came first. Water moving rhythmically nearby, not rolling waves, smaller and more contained.
Julia opened her eyes, squinting into the dim light. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, and for several long moments, she stayed perfectly still, listening.
No voices or movement. Only the faint creak of wood settling and the soft lap of water beneath her.
Memory followed right behind it. The dock. Cari. A splash. Someone behind her—
Her pulse kicked hard as she pushed herself upright. The room tilted briefly before steadying, and she became aware of the restraint circling her ankle.
Un-lined, rigid leather, secured with a lock. A chain ran from the cuff to a steel ring bolted low into the wall beside the bed.
Her stomach tightened. What had felt impossible only hours ago had happened, no matter the safeguards Leland, Dev, and the others had put into place.
The room came into focus slowly. A narrow bed beneath her. A chair angled toward it with deliberate precision. A shaft of moonlight coming in through a single, small window.
Her gaze landed on the anchor points in the bedframe itself, shifting to a polished metal tray resting on a side table. Everything appeared meticulously organized. No… deliberate. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought one of his victims here. Maybe all of them.
The air left her lungs slowly, suspicions confirmed when she saw the photographs.
Women close to her age stared at her from small black frames arranged on a table against the far wall. Different smiles. All blonde but one. Some photos looked posed, others candid, as if pulled from social media. Beneath each picture, he’d propped a personal item: a silver bracelet, a silk scarf, earrings. In front of the last frame, empty as yet, rested a lock of blonde hair the exact shade of her own, tied neatly with a ribbon.
Julia’s stomach turned. This wasn’t fantasy to him. It was a ritual.
She yanked hard on the chain. It was both desperate and futile.
Footsteps sounded, moving closer, and the muted creak of wood. Every nerve in her body tensed as the door swung inward.
