Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Jasper
Everything hurts.
My nose is definitely broken. My ribs are going to be purple by morning. My head feels like Victor used it as a battering ram. And my throat burns from where he had his forearm pressed in.
I flex my fingers to make sure they still listen to me.
They do.
Good enough.
I take a mental inventory like I always do after my body gets banged up.
Head? Attached.
Arms? Functional.
Legs? Not thrilled but moving.
Ego? Slightly bruised.
Grunting, I let my arms fall out to my sides, starfished in the snow like an idiot. But the cold snow feels good against my aching body. And honestly, I’m not sure I have the strength to sit up on my own.
“What a shit show,” I mutter to no one.
Boots crunch toward me, and I crack one eye open to find Beau standing over me, hand outstretched. He’s got that infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—but his eyes are scanning my body. Concern hidden under sarcasm, like always.
“You dead?” he asks casually.
“Workin’ on it,” I reply.
He snorts. “You look like hell.”
“Feel worse.”
“Can you stand?”
I shift slightly and immediately regret it as pain streaks across my ribs. “Define stand.”
Beau crouches down a little, lowering his voice. “Jas.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I can stand. Don’t make it dramatic. Just help me.”
He studies me for another second. “You sure nothin’s seriously broken?”
“Other than my pride?”
He huffs a laugh. “You still have that?”
I grab his hand, and he pulls me up in one solid, quick motion. My legs wobble, and I steady myself against his shoulder. “Easy,” he mutters.
“Shut up.”
He looks me over again. “Victor got a few good ones in.”
“I let him,” I scoff.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Felt a bit bad for the guy.”
Beau shakes his head. “You’re fuckin’ insufferable sometimes.”
“Yet, here you are.”
He taps the tip of my nose like he would Abigail. “Awe cute. You and Linc match now,” he says—referring to my likely crooked nose.
“I hate you.”
He bumps his shoulder lightly against mine. “You scared me for a second.”
I glance at him. “You should be more worried about the other guy.”
“Victor?”
“No,” I say quietly. “Linc.”
Beau’s expression shifts, and we both look toward the clearing. Lincoln stands over Caleb’s body, Lawson beside him. They aren’t speaking loudly, but I can see them speaking to one another.
Snow continues to fall as I stare at one of my best friends. My brother. It floats through the air, soft and steady, before settling on shoulders that already carry entirely too much.
I know what people see when they look at Lincoln.
Calm.
Measured.
Responsible.
The one who’s always level-headed and can see reason even in the most chaotic of moments.
But they forget something.
Lincoln doesn’t hesitate.
I feel everything all at once and let it drive me.
Lawson weighs it against what is right. What is just.
Beau… he weighs it against who might get hurt.
But Lincoln—Lincoln weighs it once. And when the scale tips, he doesn’t look back.
He just… does it.
No theatrics.
No apologies.
So, no. I’m not surprised that he killed Caleb.
Not even a little.
Footsteps pound across the clearing, drawing my attention from Lincoln, and I look over just in time to see red hair flying through the snow.
Red.
“Jasper!” she calls.
She doesn’t slow down before crashing into me at full force. I grunt, air leaving my lungs in a painful rush, my ribs protesting violently. “Jesus—” I choke out.
“Oh my god. I’m sorry,” she gasps, trying to pull back immediately. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”
I tighten my arms around her before she can move. “Don’t,” I murmur.
“But you’re hurt—”
“I know.”
“Jasper, we should—”
“Stay.” She freezes against me as I press my cheek against the top of her head, ignoring the ache in my face. “I’ve had worse,” I tell her quietly.
“That’s not comforting,” she mumbles against my chest.
Her fingers fist into the front of my jacket, and I feel the tremor in her hands. “I—I saw all of it. You scared me.”
I feel it. The tremble she’s trying to hide.
My brave girl.
“I’m sorry, Abbie Girl.”
“When he hit you… I thought—”
“It takes a lot more than that, Red. Bulls bigger than him have tried.”
She huffs a shaky breath that might be a laugh. Over her shoulder, I see Lincoln and Lawson finally move. They say something to each other—low and serious—before their gazes lift and find mine.
Our eyes meet across the clearing.
“You good?” Lincoln mouths.
I give a small nod and mouth, “You?”
His nod matches mine as they continue to walk toward us.
Abigail pulls back enough to look at me. Her eyes are glossy but steady as her hand reaches up, the pad of her thumb brushing against my cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
“Meh. Adds character. Chicks dig dudes with scars, right?”
“Jasper,” she sighs.
Reaching up, I wrap my hand around her wrist, turn my head—ignoring the pain in my skull when I do so—and softly kiss her palm. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Lawson stops in front of us first. “You need a hospital?”
“Probably. But I’ll survive. I will need a steak, a beer, and for one of you to straighten out my nose, though. Can’t have myself lookin’ like this one over here,” I say, nodding in Lincoln’s direction.
A smile pulls at the corners of his lips before his eyes scan me clinically. “Can you breathe without wheezing?”
“Barely.”
“That’s wheezing, Jasper.”
“Relax. Nothing’s punctured.” I’ve had a punctured lung once. I know what it feels like.
Lincoln studies me for another second, then nods.
Beau jerks his chin toward the cabin, and I release Abigail slowly. “Abigail—”
She lifts her chin in defiance. “I am not sitting in the woods again, so don’t even waste your breath.”
“You’re not arguin’ with me right now,” I say, even though—despite my body screaming in agony—the thought of arguing with her gets me a little hard.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I absolutely am.”
Lawson steps in smoothly. “Abbie.” She looks at him and raises a brow. It doesn’t take any longer than three more seconds before he exhales and relents. “You stay with one of us.”
“Fine.” I don’t miss the way she fights a smile over winning that battle.
The five of us move toward the cabin. The door hangs half open from earlier as Lincoln enters first, weapon raised. “Clear left,” he calls.
“Clear right,” Beau answers.
I step inside behind them, the air stale and thick with old smoke and body odor.
Have they not fucking showered?
Abigail hovers close to the center of the room between us, eyes scanning everything. “There has to be something,” she says quietly.
I move into what passes for a kitchen—just a counter, a mini fridge, and a sink that is in desperate need of a cleaning.
I start opening drawers.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
“Check the bedrooms,” Lawson calls.
There are two. One mattress on the floor, stripped bare except for a faint stain I don’t want to identify.
The second has two folding cots and two duffel bags.
I unzip one but find nothing useful.
“Find anything?” Beau asks from the hallway.
“Nah. Nothin’.”
The five of us gather in the living room after clearing the entire cabin and coming up empty-handed. Abigail eyes me with worry as she grabs at the sleeves of her jacket.
“Do you think—” She swallows. “Do you think Kat was ever here?”
Lincoln’s jaw tightens. “If she was, it wasn’t for long.”
Abigail nods, but I don’t miss it.
The flicker.
Hope dying quietly.
“We’ll find her,” I say.
She doesn’t look at me as she whispers, “I know.”
But it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true rather than believe it.
Beau starts pacing. “We’ve got nothing here. No paperwork. No maps. No photos.”
Lawson pulls out his phone. “I’m calling Sebastian.”
He steps outside for better reception, and Abigail drifts toward the small bedroom again, standing in the doorway like she’s trying to will something into existence.
I lean against the wall and immediately regret it as pain shoots across my ribs.
“Sit down for Christ’s sake,” Beau says.
“So bossy.”
He rolls his eyes and nudges me toward the couch. I collapse onto it with a grunt.
“Graceful,” he remarks.
“Shut up.”
A minute later, Lawson comes back in.
“Sebastian’s working on it,” he says. "He’s going to try to track Victor’s vehicle. See where they’re headed.”
“Anything on Keller?” Lincoln asks.
“He’s digging. Luca’s pulling financials again. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Property holdings.”
Abigail turns slowly. “Do—do you think he’s keeping her somewhere like this?”
The question lingers before Lawson responds, “No.”
“Then where?”
Lincoln answers this time. “Somewhere controlled. Somewhere no one would think to look.”
Beau exhales. “So, we’re back to square one.”
“No,” Law corrects. “We’re down to one Coates brother. They know we can find them now. We’re closing in.”
“Silver linings,” I mutter.
No one laughs. Not even Beau.
Silence fills the room as snow taps lightly against the windows.
Leaning back, I let my head rest against the back of the couch and close my eyes.
For a second.
I just need a second.
But the minute I close my eyes, all I see is how close that bullet came to Abigail.
Or how close Victor came to crushing my throat.
Or how Lincoln didn’t hesitate to fire his gun.
But I can’t dwell on it.
Because if I do, I might actually feel it.
And I don’t have room for that right now.
We’re not done.
Opening my eyes again, I ask, “Next move?”
Lawson looks at each of us. “We go home. We regroup. And we prepare.”
Home.
That sounds nice.