Page 49 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

“Diggs, Paddy, Michael, get the cars ready. We leave now.”

For a second, no one moved, as though the force in my voice had pinned them to the floor. Then they were gone, rushing down the stairs and through the halls with the kind of speed that only came when they understood exactly how serious I was.

I followed them outside. The night air hit me hard, cold and sharp against my skin, but I barely felt it. My mind was already racing ahead, picturing Nora somewhere beyond the city lights, alone and moving farther away with every passing minute.

Diggs reached the first car and yanked the back door open. Paddy was already speaking into his phone, barking orders to our men stationed across Boston.

“Watch every highway exit heading south and west,” he said. “Check the bus stations, the train stations, and every road leading out of the city. I want eyes on every route.”

Michael opened the trunk of the second car and began loading weapons, radios, and spare ammunition with practiced efficiency. The metallic sound of magazines snapping into place cut through the night.

I crossed the driveway and grabbed the keys from Diggs before he could hand them to me.

“Liam, I’ll drive,” he said carefully.

“No,” I replied. “I’m not sitting in the backseat while Nora disappears.”

He held my gaze for a moment, then stepped aside. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life, vibrating through the steering wheel like a living thing.

Paddy ran to the window. “We have men checking every departure list. The moment we know which bus or train she took, they’ll call.”

“We don’t wait for a call,” I said. “We start moving now.”

Diggs and Michael jumped into the other cars, their headlights flaring behind me. I pressed my foot against the accelerator, and the tires screeched as we tore out of the driveway and onto the empty street.

Boston blurred around us in streaks of light and shadow. Traffic lights flashed past. Buildings disappeared behind us. The city felt like a maze designed to hide Nora from me. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my hands ached.

Nora had left believing she could face Victor Hale alone. She’d left believing I would be safer if she carried this burden by herself. But she was wrong. Victor Hale had taken enough from her already. He’d stolen her peace, her safety, and her freedom. He wouldn’t take her from me, too.

My phone rang through the car. It was Diggs. I answered without taking my eyes off the road.

“We have a lead,” he said. “A bus left the station thirty minutes ago heading toward New Haven. Nora might be on it.”

“Might be?” I snapped. “I don’t want a maybe, I want a certainty. So give me one.”

“It’s the strongest lead we have.”

I pushed the accelerator harder. The car surged forward, the engine growling as the city lights began to thin and the highway opened before me.

“Then we go to New Haven,” I said.

The convoy sped down the road, chasing the woman who’d disappeared into the darkness, taking my heart with her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Nora

The bus slowed as it entered my hometown, and my stomach tightened before I even saw the first familiar street. I’d spent years convincing myself that distance could erase pain, that if I stayed away long enough the memories would fade into something harmless and blurred.

But the moment the town came into view through the window, I knew I’d been lying to myself. Nothing had changed. The streets looked smaller than I remembered, narrowed by time and neglect, but they carried the same weight they always had. The old grocery store still stood at the corner, its faded sign hanging crookedly above the entrance. The church where my mother used to drag me every Sunday still watched over the town from its hill, its white paint peeling beneath the gray sky. Even the cracked sidewalks looked familiar, as though they’d been waiting for me to return.

I gripped my bag tighter and kept my eyes fixed on the window as the bus rolled deeper into town. Every landmark pulled a memory from me. The park where I used to hide after school when I was afraid to go home. The diner where my mother and I once shared milkshakes before Victor Hale entered our lives and turned every ordinary moment into something fragile. The narrow road leading toward our house, where I’d learned to recognize the sound of his truck long before it reached the driveway.

I was no longer the girl who’d left this town with fear burning in her throat, but the memories didn’t care how much I’d changed. They rose around me anyway, heavy and relentless, reminding me of the person I used to be before Victor Hale made home feel like a prison.

The bus finally stopped near the center of town. I stepped onto the pavement, and the cold air hit my face like a warning. The sky was overcast, pressing low above the rooftops, and the wind carried the faint smell of rain and damp earth. For a moment, I stood still with my bag hanging from my shoulder, staring at the streets I’d promised myself I would never walk again.

Then I started moving. The walk to my mother’s house felt longer than it should have. My boots echoed against the pavement while the town remained strangely quiet around me. A few cars passed in the distance, but no one looked at me twice. I kept my head down, trying to ignore the way my heart pounded harder with every step. The closer I got to the house, the heavier the dread became. At first, I told myself it was only nerves. Then I noticed how still the neighborhood felt. No voices drifted from the nearby houses. No dogs barked behind fences. No music played from open windows. The silence settled deep in my chest, cold and unnatural. I slowed as I reached the end of the street and saw my mother’s house standing at the far corner, half-hidden behind the familiar overgrown hedge.