Chapter 40 Roman
ROMAN
I got home late after hours of trying to work out who the hell broke into Lanton House and used my keycard that was still firmly in my possession, and my fingerprint… again, which was still where it should be.
I bent to pick up the post, throwing the pile along with my keys onto the side table just as a message beeped on my phone.
I sighed because I was exhausted and just wanted to grab some food and go watch Hana from the comfort of my office while she went about her evening.
The thought warmed me, but then instantly curdled as I pulled up the message.
It gave an address in a place I’d never heard of, and then another message popped through that made the air go from my lungs, and I stumbled, hitting the side table with my hip as I stared at a black and white picture of Hana.
Her tear-stained face stared down the lens of the camera as a gag silenced her.
I didn’t hesitate, my laptop still in the bag hanging from my shoulder, grabbing my keys and slamming out of the front door, not even bothering with the alarm. I didn’t care about anything other than getting to Hana.
I drove like a maniac, but it still took me almost the full ninety minutes to reach the edge of…
nowhere, it appeared. An ominous feeling curdled in the pit of my stomach as the trees began to get denser as I drove through a forest. There were no streetlights, the greenery hiding even the light from the moon, so my headlights glowed in the darkness like ghosts leading me to fuck knows where.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I checked the sat nav again, making sure I was going in the right direction as my thoughts returned to the photo of Hana.
I wasn’t a violent man—I usually left that to the men and women I worked with—but I whispered a promise to rip the still beating heart from whoever had taken her.
My heart leapt into my throat when the road opened up to show a small cabin in the distance. Alone in the night, like an oasis, it offered a promise of shelter, when in fact, I knew it was probably more like a lion’s den, and I had no idea if I’d come out alive.
I thought about texting Jarrid or Sean, but I knew they’d descend on the place like the heroes they were, and I couldn’t risk someone hurting Hana because I’d not followed instructions.
I switched off my headlights so I wouldn’t alert them to my arrival too soon, plunging the world into an ominous darkness, the engine's rumble mingling with the pounding of my heart.
I pulled up to the side of the single-story wooden building, killing the engine and reaching for my bag with my laptop in, unsure what they’d expect me to do in order to get Hana back in one piece, but I was pretty sure I would do just about anything.
I climbed out of the car, closing the door quietly and creeping to the front door, noticing how run down the place looked. I questioned whether I should walk in or knock, because how the hell did you enter the creepy house where the love of your life was being held captive?
I decided to go with opening the door slowly, peeking my head through as I tightened my grip on my bag, trying to appear like the giant man I was and not the terrified techie who wished he was at home right now.
Inside the cabin, it was as dark as it was outside; the air warm and scented by the dying embers of the fire that glowed in the grate.
“Hana?” I hissed, my eyes scouring the darkness, but I was met with silence. The weight of it pressed down on me as I strained to listen for anything to tell me she was here and alive.
My steps echoed into the stillness, despite how undetectable I tried to be, but still no one appeared—there was no sound of a gun being loaded or a strike to the head to render me unconscious. My heart hammered so hard that it felt like percussion to my apprehension. Then it came.
A click.
Not a gun, but a door locking. I stilled.
There was a soft sigh, and someone spoke: “That hero complex is really going to get you into trouble one day, psycho.”