Chapter 15
15
ISABEL
C harleston blurred around me as I ran.
The lights of King Street flickered past in a dizzying rush, the rhythmic pound of my heels against the uneven brick sidewalks matching the frantic beat of my pulse. People turned as I passed—some startled, some curious, others too caught up in their own night to care about the woman tearing through the streets like she was being chased by something unseen. Maybe I was.
I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow. I ran like I could outrun the truth, like I could outpace the words Ryker had spoken, as if sheer movement alone could erase the image of him sitting across from me, his face shadowed, his voice steady, saying the words I would never be ready to hear.
Will is missing .
In Will’s world, missing didn’t simply mean he was late to a meeting or forgot to check in. It didn’t mean his phone died, or that he got held up somewhere with a bad signal. It meant something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Will’s work wasn’t the kind you took lightly. He didn’t sit in an office pushing papers. He didn’t deal in predictable risks. He dealt in shadows, in secrets, in operations that never made the news. He worked alongside men like Ryker—men who had seen the worst of humanity, men who had walked into dangerous places and come out with blood on their hands.
In this world, missing didn’t mean lost. It meant someone took you. Or worse—it meant they had already made sure you wouldn’t be found.
The thought hit me like a blade, cutting sharp and deep, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Will knew how to handle himself. He had been trained for this. But even the strongest, even the most skilled, could bleed. Could break. Could disappear without a trace if the wrong people wanted them gone badly enough.
I had no idea who those wrong people were. No idea what had happened to my brother. No idea if I would ever see him again.
My breath hitched, my chest burning, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because if I stopped, it meant facing the full weight of what that meant. I couldn’t do it.
A man I passed reached out instinctively, as if to catch me, his brows knitting in concern. “Miss—are you?—?”
I veered away without answering. A woman near a line of waiting taxis watched me with wide, cautious eyes, gripping her boyfriend’s arm as if I were some kind of warning. I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them wonder. They didn’t know. They didn’t understand that my world had just cracked wide open, that my lungs couldn’t seem to hold enough air, that I felt like I was free-falling with nothing to grab onto.
My phone vibrated in my bag, the screen lighting up with Sasha’s name, a silent plea I wasn’t ready to answer. I ignored it. The idea of speaking—of forcing words past the tightness in my throat, of explaining anything—felt impossible.
So I kept running.
Will.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the burn of fresh tears, but they spilled over anyway, hot, relentless, merciless.
He was the only one left. The only family I had that mattered.
My parents were long gone. First my mother—taken in a split second by a car that ran a red light, her absence leaving a wound that never truly healed. Then my father—his heart giving out far too soon, leaving Will and me orphaned when we had barely figured out how to be adults.
Now him? My brother?
No.
No, I couldn’t think like that.
I gasped against the sob rising in my throat, shoving the thought away with force, but it clawed back to the surface, dragging its nails down my sanity.
What if he was gone? What if I never saw him again?
Aunt Maude would be devastated, but she was old and distant, too preoccupied with her garden and the ghosts of the past to offer any real comfort. The cousins we had were barely more than names on Christmas cards, faces in old photo albums my father had once flipped through with a nostalgic sigh .
But Will? He was the only real constant in my life.
I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t.
My legs burned as I reached Waterfront Park, my body trembling with exhaustion, but I didn’t stop moving. The soft scent of salt thickened in the air, the harbor stretching out before me, dark and endless beneath the glow of the moon. I made my way toward the wooden pier, toward the swings that lined the edge, my movements finally slowing, my chest heaving as I collapsed onto one.
The wooden slats were cool beneath my thighs, the steady creak of the swing beneath me grounding in a way nothing else was. I pushed off gently, the motion soothing, rhythmic, rocking me back and forth as my vision blurred against the silver shimmer of the water.
Was he out there somewhere? In some strange land, surrounded by unfamiliar faces? Was he cold? Was he hungry? Was he hurt?
Or worse?—
I swallowed hard, gripping the arms of the swing so tightly my knuckles ached.
I couldn’t let my mind go there.
I stared out at the water, my breath still unsteady, my heart still racing, trying to grasp onto something—anything—that could pull me back from the edge.
But all I could think about was Will.
The way he used to chase me through the yard when we were kids, laughing as he caught me and spun me around until we both collapsed in the grass, breathless and happy. The way he’d taught me how to drive in an empty parking lot when I was sixteen, patient even when I nearly ran into a lamppost. The way he had held me after Dad died, strong and steady, promising me that no matter what happened, we still had each other .
But now? Now I didn’t even know where he was. How could life be so cruel?
I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath catching on a sob as I rocked faster, the movement not enough, not grounding me, not filling the hollow space in my chest that was growing larger by the second.
I needed to find my brother. I needed to bring him home. I needed him to be okay.
Because if he wasn’t?—
If Will Harper was truly gone?—
Then I didn’t know who I was anymore.
“Isabel?” a deep voice called from a short distance away. I turned, confused. “There you are.”
Marcus. He was alone, thank God. I wasn’t ready to face Ryker.
“My friends call me Izzy,” I managed.
Marcus strolled toward me, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, his easy, surfer-boy confidence completely at odds with the storm inside me. Even in the dim light of the pier, his features were sharp—strong jaw, high cheekbones, golden-blond hair that looked like he had spent the afternoon on a beach rather than tracking me down in the middle of the night. He wasn’t as intimidating as Ryker. No one was. But there was something in his calm, assessing gaze that told me he wasn’t a man to be underestimated.
He stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly, like he was trying to gauge whether or not I was about to bolt again.
“Well,” he said, his voice lined with amusement, “Ryker always calls you Isabel, so I figured I should, too.”
I let out a sharp breath, not quite a laugh, not quite anything at all .
“I don’t know why he has to be so formal,” I muttered, swiping at my damp cheeks with the back of my hand. “It’s just one of the many irritating things about him.”
Marcus smirked, but there was something gentle in the way he looked at me. “Yeah, well. Ryker’s got his own way of doing things.”
I scoffed. “You don’t say.”
The wind off the water picked up, threading cool fingers through my hair, pushing strands into my face. I tucked them behind my ear with a shaky hand, staring down at the worn wooden planks beneath my feet.
Marcus exhaled and rubbed at his jaw, like he was debating something. And then—he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“All right, I found you. Let me just text Ryker?—”
“No.”
I reached out instinctively, gripping his wrist before he could type a single word. His skin was warm, solid, his muscles tensing beneath my touch.
“Marcus, please,” I whispered. “Don’t tell him.”
His brows furrowed. “Izzy?—”
“You were Will’s friend, too,” I cut in, desperation curling around the words, wrapping around my throat. “You owe me that much.”
His breath hitched—just slightly. I saw it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his fingers flexed around his phone.
Because he had been Will’s friend. Not just a co-worker, not just another man in Ryker’s orbit. A friend. And that meant this wasn’t just happening to me. It was happening to all of us.
Marcus inhaled deeply, staring at me for a long beat, his expression shifting—less easygoing, more guarded. I didn’t know what he was looking for in my face, what he saw in my bloodshot eyes or my tear-streaked cheeks, but whatever it was, it was enough.
With a reluctant sigh, he shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“All right,” he murmured. “I won’t tell him. Yet.”
I exhaled sharply, relief flooding my limbs so quickly it almost made me dizzy. “Thank you.”
Marcus sat down beside me on the swing, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring out at the dark water like it might have answers we didn’t.
“You think he’s still alive?” I asked softly.
Marcus didn’t respond right away.
I watched as he rolled his shoulders back, stretching slightly, his muscles tensing, flexing, before he dragged a hand through his short blond hair and let out a slow, deliberate breath.
“If anyone could survive this,” he finally said, his voice quiet but unshakable, “it’s Will.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him. But Marcus didn’t know any more than I did.
“Then where is he?” I whispered. “Where the hell did he go?”
Marcus was silent for a long time. Then—a small, mirthless chuckle.
“You’re asking the wrong guy,” he said, shaking his head. “Ryker’s the one who’s been tearing the city apart looking for you, not me. You realize it’s been hours since you ran off at The Sound Barn, right?”
I swallowed hard, staring out at the inky water, the streetlights reflecting off its surface like shattered glass. I hadn’t realized it had been that long. Time had seemed to warp and bend in wicked ways. I only knew that it was still dark outside. I knew I couldn’t face going home to my apartment.
“My brother is worried sick, desperate to find you,” Marcus added. “He might not admit it or use those words, but it’s true.”
Of course, he was. Of course, Ryker fucking Dane had the entire city searching for me. Because that’s who he was. The man who never let things slip through his fingers. The man who always hunted what was his.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be found.
The hours had slipped away, swallowed by the heavy silence of the harbor, the rhythmic creak of the swing beneath me, and Marcus’ quiet presence at my side. Even through my haze of exhaustion, I could see that it wasn’t morning yet. Not even close.
I wasn’t ready to go home. I wasn’t ready to be alone in my apartment, staring at my phone, waiting for answers that might never come. I wasn’t ready to sleep, because sleep meant dreaming, and I couldn’t bear the thought of dreaming about Will being gone.
I needed to go somewhere.
Marcus must have sensed it before I even said a word. He straightened from his easy slouch, stretching his arms over his head in a way that made his tanned skin flex, catching the dim light. Relaxed but strong. Different from Ryker’s coiled intensity—Marcus had the kind of confidence that came from knowing he could handle himself but didn’t have to prove it to anyone.
His easy smirk reappeared as he glanced at me, like he was trying to lighten the weight between us. “Ready to head back?”
I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I was due at work in the morning. I should have been getting in my car, heading home to rest and change, preparing myself to stand behind the front desk at The Palmetto Rose like my world hadn’t just imploded.
But I wasn’t going in. I couldn’t.
“My car is still in the lot at The Sound Barn,” I said instead, like that was the only thing keeping me from returning to normal.
“I’ll take you.”
I should have said yes. It made sense. But the idea of walking back into that parking lot, of seeing the place where Ryker had grabbed me, kissed me, touched me like he owned me, made something inside me twist.
I shook my head before I could second-guess it.
“No,” I said instead. Too fast. Too sure.
Marcus’ smirk faltered, just slightly. “No?”
I inhaled deeply, my fingers gripping the edges of the swing, and made a decision I wasn’t entirely sure I understood yet.
“Take me to Dominion Hall.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me like he was trying to figure out my angle. His light eyes—blue like the Carolina sky—narrowed slightly, flicking over my face, searching.
Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find it.
Instead, he exhaled through his nose and nodded. “All right.”
The drive was quiet.
I leaned against the passenger window, watching the city blur past, my body aching with exhaustion but my mind still too wired, too raw to let it claim me. Marcus didn’t push, didn’t ask questions, didn’t even turn on the radio. He just drove, the silence between us not uncomfortable, but heavy.
By the time we pulled through the gates of Dominion Hall, I felt a little better about things. The place looked different now—less ominous, somehow. Almost beautiful. But that didn’t change what it was.
A fortress. A kingdom built for men who didn’t play by the rules.
Marcus put the car in park, drumming his fingers once against the steering wheel before turning toward me. “You sure about this?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
His gaze flicked toward the house, then back to me. “You’re not gonna go running off again, are you? Because I swear to God, Izzy, if I have to track you down a second time?—”
I huffed out a small, tired laugh. “No running. I promise.”
He watched me for another long beat before shaking his head with an amused sigh. “All right. What now?”
I hesitated for only a second before answering.
“I want to go for a swim.”
Marcus blinked. “You—what?”
“A swim,” I repeated. “You guys have a pool, right?”
His brow furrowed. “Yeah, but?—”
“Then I want to use it.”
He looked at me like I had just declared I wanted to fly to the moon, his easy confidence finally cracking just a little. “Izzy, I don’t know if that’s the best?—”
“I just need a distraction, Marcus.” I exhaled, rolling my shoulders like I could shake off the heaviness clinging to my skin. “Something that makes me feel … I don’t know. Normal.”
His jaw ticked, but he sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. But I really do need to tell Ryker you’re here.”
“No.” I looked at him sharply, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Not yet.”
He groaned, tipping his head back against the seat. “You’re gonna get me killed.”
I forced a small smile. “Probably.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but he still pushed open the door, leading me inside.
Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the guest bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped in one of Marcus’ oversized white t-shirts.
It smelled like clean soap and something distinctly male, the fabric soft and well-worn. I had changed out of my dress, leaving it crumpled in a heap on the floor, replacing my heels with bare feet. The only thing I had kept on were my black lace panties, the delicate fabric peeking out just slightly beneath the hem of the shirt.
I had no swimsuit.
And something about that made my pulse thrill in my veins.
Grabbing a fresh toothbrush from the counter, I cleaned my teeth quickly, then ran my fingers through my damp hair before making my way toward the pool.
The water was still, the soft rippling of the saltwater surface reflecting the lights on the patio, casting shimmering streaks along the edges of the sleek, stone-lined pool. It was luxurious, like everything in this house—vast, expensive, meant for indulgence.
I was about to indulge.
With a deep breath, I stepped onto the ledge, the cool stone biting at my bare toes, then slowly lowered myself into the pool.
The warm saltwater wrapped around me, easing the ache in my muscles, soothing, stretching, welcoming. I sighed as I pushed off the edge, drifting through the water, letting it hold me, ground me, wash me clean.
It wasn’t until I surfaced, brushing the damp strands of hair from my face, that I realized I wasn’t alone.
Three of them.
Marcus.
Noah.
Charlie.
Reclined in lounge chairs, watching me with drinks in hand.
Their eyes flicked over me, slow and unreadable, their postures relaxed but too focused to be casual.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening on the pool’s edge.
Were they just … taking over for Ryker? Watching me the way they would have for Will? Or was it something else?
Something more?
The thought sent a strange thrill cascading down my spine, pooling in my stomach like a warning. Or maybe like an opportunity.
Because Ryker had been jealous of the Citadel guys. What would he do if he was jealous of his own guys? Two of them, his brothers. What would he do if he realized that I wasn’t just his to claim?
I floated for a moment, letting the saltwater cradle me, my limbs weightless, my mind drifting somewhere between exhaustion and a strange, buzzing awareness. The early patio lights shimmered over the rippling surface, catching on the edges of my body as I kicked gently, sending soft waves outward.
And then—I felt their eyes.
Marcus .
Noah.
Charlie.
Still watching. Still tracking my every movement.
A slow heat crept up my neck as I realized just how exposed I was. The oversized white t-shirt I had borrowed clung to my skin, soaked through and completely transparent, leaving very little to the imagination.
And worse—my nipples were hard, aching, straining against the wet fabric.
The heaviness of the night air, the warm water against my bare skin, the undeniable attention of the men lounging poolside—all of it sent a slow, traitorous pulse through my body.
I swallowed, shifting slightly, but that only made the fabric cling tighter, making me more aware of just how visible I was.
I wondered if they had noticed.
No.
I knew they had.