Chapter Nineteen Amethyst #2
One hour. I’m not sitting anymore. Can’t.
I’m pacing. Living room to kitchen. Kitchen to bedroom.
Bedroom to living room. Over and over. My breathing is ragged.
Uneven. My hands won’t stop shaking. The predator is screaming now.
Not snarling. Screaming. She’s hurt. She’s dying.
She’s already dead and you’re just sitting here—
No. No. She’s alive. She has to be alive. I would know. I would feel it. Wouldn’t I?
Ninety minutes. I’m at the window again.
Forehead pressed against the glass. Cold.
Grounding. Not enough. My chest hurts. Tight.
Constricted. Like something is wrapped around my ribs.
Squeezing. I can’t breathe right. Can’t think right.
Only the clock. Only the silence. Only the absence of her.
Three and a half hours left. Three and a half hours until I move.
Until I go. Until I burn it all down. I can wait. I can. I have to.
Two hours. I’m on the floor. Don’t remember sitting. Don’t remember my legs giving out. But I’m here. Back against the wall. Communicator in my hands. Staring at it.
The predator isn’t screaming anymore.
Isn’t begging. Isn’t panicking.
It’s gone quiet.
Three hours until we go. Three hours until we kill everyone. Until we find her. Until we bring her home. Or die trying. My hands are steady now. Not shaking. Not trembling. Just holding the communicator. Waiting.
Two and a half hours. I’m still on the floor.
Haven’t moved. Can’t move. If I move, I’ll leave.
If I leave, I’ll break the rule. And I can’t break the rule.
Not yet. Not until one. So I sit. And I stare.
And I count every second. Every breath. Every heartbeat.
One hundred fifty minutes left. Nine thousand seconds. I can wait. I will wait. For her.
Three hours. I stand. Walk to the bedroom. Open the closet. Stare at the weapons. Knives. Guns. Ammunition. Everything I’ll need. I don’t take them yet. Not yet. But I look.
I plan. I calculate. Routes. Entrances. Exit points. Possible body count.
How many people in the facility. How many I’ll have to kill. How fast I can move. How much time until I reach her. The predator purrs. Approval. Planning. Hunting. Two hours left. Then we move.
Three and a half hours. I’m in the kitchen. Drinking water. Forcing it down. My body needs fuel. Needs hydration. Needs to be ready. Because in ninety minutes. I’m going. And I’m not stopping. Not for anything. Not for anyone. Until I find her. Until I see her. Until I know she’s alive.
And if she’s not—
The glass shatters in my hand. I don’t feel it. Don’t feel the cuts. The blood. Only the rage. Only the promise.
If she’s not alive. Everyone dies.
Four hours. Midnight. I’m at the table again.
Communicator in front of me. One hour left.
Sixty minutes. Then I move. The predator is silent now.
Completely silent. Not because it’s calm.
Because it already knows whats coming. Waiting for the leash to drop.
Waiting for permission. One hour. Then it gets what it wants.
Four and a half hours. I’m loading the truck.
Weapons. Ammunition. Knives. Everything.
My movements are mechanical. Precise. No wasted motion.
No hesitation. Thirty minutes left. Thirty minutes until the rule triggers.
Until the promise becomes action. I check my phone.
Pull up the Jake’s contact. My thumb hovers over the call button.
Not yet. Not until one. Not until the rule is absolute.
Four hours and forty-five minutes. I’m in the driver’s seat. Engine off. Keys in the ignition. Ready. Fifteen minutes. Nine hundred seconds. The predator is coiled. Tight. Spring-loaded. Ready to explode. I stare at the clock on the dashboard. Watch the minutes tick down.
Fourteen.
Thirteen.
Twelve.
My breathing is steady now. Controlled. Not panicked. Not frantic. Cold. Certain.
She’s alive.
She has to be.
And I’m coming for her.
Four hours and fifty-five minutes. Five minutes left.
Three hundred seconds. I’m still in the truck.
Still waiting. Still watching the clock.
My hand is on the keys. Ready to turn. Ready to go.
The predator is silent. Completely silent.
Not because it’s calm. Because it’s already hunting.
Already moving. Already killing. In its mind. In its soul.
Four minutes.
Three.
Two.
One.
Five hours. The rule triggers. I turn the key. The engine roars to life. I pull out my phone. I call Jake he answers on the second ring.
“Kade” His voice is alert. Awake. He was expecting this.
“She didn’t check in," I say. My voice is flat. Cold. Dead.
“When?"
“Eight.. Five hours ago."
Silence. Brief. Heavy.
“You’re going."
Not a question. A statement.
“Yes."
“You need backup."
“Yes."
“Give me the location. I’ll have a team there in forty minutes."
I give him the address. The facility. Everything.
“Kade," he says. His voice is different now. Careful. “Don’t go in alone. Wait for us."
“No."
“Kade—"
“I’m not waiting. I’m not stopping. I’m going in and I’m getting her out."
“You’ll get yourself killed."
“Then I’ll die getting her back."
Silence. Longer this time. Then— “Understood. We’ll be there as fast as we can. Try to stay alive until we arrive."
“No promises."
I hang up. Put the truck in gear. And I drive. The predator isn’t leashed anymore. Isn’t controlled. Isn’t held back. It’s free. Fully free.
It has one purpose now. One mission. One target. Find Amethyst. Bring her home. Anyone who gets in the way dies.
Anyone.
I press harder on the gas.
Hold on, Amethyst.
I’m coming.
Chapter Twenty-One: Amethyst
The knife cuts again. Shallow. Across my collarbone.
Not deep enough to kill. Just deep enough to hurt.
I don’t make a sound. Won’t give him that.
Enzo steps back. Studies me. Blood runs down my chest. Warm.
Sticky. Soaking into my shirt. My face is swollen.
Left eye nearly shut. Split lip. Broken nose.
Blood everywhere. He’s been at this for hours. Methodical. Patient. Professional.
“You’re wasting time," he says. His voice is calm. Almost conversational. “The Raven’s organization. Locations. Personnel. Operations."
I stare at him. Silent. He sighs. Walks to the table. Sets the knife down. Picks up something else. Brass knuckles. Slides them on. Slow. Deliberate.
“I can do this all night," he says. I believe him. But I can outlast him. I just have to stay alive. Kade is coming. The five-hour rule triggers at one. Should be less than an hour from now. I just have to survive.
My ribs are screaming. Three hits. Maybe four. Hard. Precise. Nothing broken. Yet. But close. Blood fills my mouth. Copper. Thick. I spit. It hits the floor. Dark. Red. Enzo circles me. Slow. Predatory.
“You’re tougher than I expected," he says. “Giltrude trained you well."
I don’t respond. Can’t. My jaw is throbbing. Swelling. He stops in front of me. Crouches. Eye level.
“But everyone breaks eventually."
I meet his gaze. Hold it. And I smile. Blood on my teeth. Split lip pulling. Pain flaring. But I smile anyway. His eyes narrow.
“Something funny?"
“You," I say. My voice is rough. Broken. But clear.
“You’re going to die."
He stands. Slow.
“Am I?"
“Yes."
“And who’s going to kill me? You?"
I spit again. More blood. Then I laugh. Low. Ragged. It hurts. Everything hurts. But I laugh anyway.
“Not me," I say.
“Him."
Enzo tilts his head.
“Him?"
“Kade."
The name hangs in the air. Heavy. Weighted. Enzo’s expression doesn’t change.
“Your partner."
“My protector."
“Interesting distinction."