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“I think so,” she whispers.

“Presley?”

But my brother makes no sound.

“Presley!” I yell it and try to reach for him in the front seat, but when I move, pain shoots through my side. I look down, and the cold realization that I’m likely not walking away from this sets in.

“Ryker! No!” Dahlia tries to reach for me, her hands shaking. “We have to leave it in. Otherwise you could bleed to death.”

A construction sign’s pole sticks out from my right abdomen. The metal is slick with blood, and every movement is met with a searing pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

“Okay. We need to—” Her door is ripped open, and two men in suits reach in to grab her. “No! Ryker!”

“Dahlia!” I roar. I fight against the pole, but it’s wedged me into the car, pinning me to the seat.

“Ryker!” she screams again.

“Dahlia!” Panic thrums through my veins, pushing aside all anger and leaving only a bone-chilling terror. I grip the sign and shove it forward. It comes out of me, but blinding pain follows, forcing me to concentrate on my breathing or risk passing out.

I feel the pain all the way down to my toes.

Blood pours from the wound, soaking my shirt.

“Shouldn’t have done that, but I am grateful you’ve made my job easier.”

That voice.

I look over as José leans into the doorway.

“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him.

“Unlikely given you’ve got maybe another ten minutes or so? And that’s on the conservative side.”

“Let her go, and you walk away,” I warn him.

“Nah. But thanks for bringing your brother along, too. Two birds, one stone. And you won’t be around to pull Dahlia out of the next river. Too bad.” He moves out of view.

“No! You get back here! Dahlia!” I fight to get the door open, but it doesn’t budge.

Tires screech and the car peels away from us.

“No! Presley!” I grip my brother’s shoulder with one hand and apply pressure to my injury with the other. “Presley!”

After a few seconds, he groans. Relief momentarily overtakes me. “Ryker, I—” He turns around in his seat and sees the blood-covered post and my hand on my crimson-soaked shirt. “What—why did you remove it?”

“They took her, Presley. They took Dahlia.” Tears sting in my eyes, and my body grows cold.

“You’re going to die if we don’t get you help. Stop moving.” He climbs out of his window and staggers around to the back passenger side. Then he grips me and drags me toward the edge of the seat. After putting both arms beneath mine, he tugs me all the way out and sets me on the ground.

“We have to go after her.”

“In what?” he snaps. “Get your head on straight, Ryker, or you’re going to die. I told you, I don’t want to bury you, too.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Yeah. We were hit. They got her. Ryker’s in bad shape. Get here now.” He ends the call, then adds his other hand to the one currently keeping pressure on my side.

“He’s going to kill her.” I can’t do anything but whisper. “If I die⁠—”

“I’ll go after her. I promised you, I won’t let anything happen to her. But you’d better not die, Ryker.”

Chapter 30