Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nysa
The ride to Hopper’s house is too quiet despite the low murmur of Malerick’s voice as he speaks into his earpiece.
He’s tense, his fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly, his jaw tight with the same frustration that’s been gnawing at all of us. How did they get in Maddie’s room? I was there.
“We’re still working through possibilities,” he mutters, glancing at the security specialist in the passenger seat. “But it doesn’t add up. No forced entry. No tampering. Hopper’s security system is state-of-the-art, and none of the cameras caught movement.”
The man nods, tapping at his tablet. “We’re going through every frame of footage, running diagnostics to see if the system was remotely accessed, but from what we can tell—there was no breach. Gil is losing his shit, because no one but one person has ever been able to hack him—and that man works for him. If they indeed hacked the system . . . we’re fucked.”
A chill runs down my spine.
The agents were there. The security was in place. The system should have detected movement, entry, anything. If it didn’t, these people are ghosts. Nothing will stop them.
None of it makes sense.
I press my fingers against my temple, trying to stop the pounding headache forming behind my eyes. “So what? They just walked in without your men seeing them, without the cameras detecting them?”
“Or someone let them in,” Mal says darkly. “There’s a mole?”
If someone had access to Hopper’s home security, that meant they had access to everything—his land, his patients, and worst of all . . .
Maddie.
As we arrive at their house, I don’t wait for the car to fully stop before I throw the door open and run toward them. Hopper is already waiting on the porch, his body rigid, his arms wrapped tightly around Maddie as if someone might try to rip her away from him.
The moment I see them—see her, safe, tucked against his chest, her little arms wrapped around his neck—something inside me snaps.
I reach them in seconds, wrapping my arms around both of them, burying my face in Hopper’s shoulder as I breathe them in.
Hopper doesn’t let go.
Maddie makes a soft noise, nuzzling into me. “Nysa,” she murmurs sleepily. “You comed.”
A broken breath leaves me. “Of course, baby. I’d always come for you.”
Hopper presses a kiss to Maddie’s curls, but his eyes are locked on me, searching, assessing.
“You okay?” His voice is low, rough, laced with something undeniably protective.
I nod, but I don’t step back. Not yet. I can’t let them go now. I just need to feel them, to know they’re okay.
Because whoever is doing this . . . they wanted me to believe they got to Maddie. And that . . . well, that makes me dangerous.
It’s only when Maddie wiggles slightly, rubbing her sleepy eyes, that I finally ease back. And that’s when I see it. The stuffed pony in her hands.
Lala.
But . . . no, Lala is . . . something’s off.
The fur of the pony she holds is too bright, though, the stitches too neat, the eyes not as worn down as they should be.
I freeze.
Hopper notices immediately. “What?”
I swallow hard, my pulse picking up. “That’s not Lala,” I whisper.
His brow furrows, his gaze flicking between me and the stuffed animal. “What are you talking about?”
I reach out, fingers shaking slightly as I brush over the toy.
“This is new,” I whisper.
Maddie blinks up at me, confused. “No, it’s Lala.”
Malerick joins us and he says, “I thought we had Lala. We’re taking it for evidence.”
I point at the pony Maddie’s holding. “That looks different.” Then narrow my gaze while asking, “Have you lost track of Lala in the past few days?”
He frowns, thinking. Then his face changes.
“Yeah. Last Sunday,” he says slowly. “At the park. We looked everywhere before we finally found her in the mud. We washed her, that’s why she looks different.”
Malerick growls. “They’re playing mind games, making you believe they got you. Making sure you know they’re not gone—they’re still watching you.”
“Can I have Lala, Maddie?” Malerick says with a gentle voice.
She pouts slightly, but she’s too tired to argue, barely keeping her eyes open as Hopper cradles her against his chest, whispering soft reassurances in her ear. Malerick takes the new Lala from Maddie’s small hands.
I should be comforting her, too, but Hopper isn’t letting her go. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. I’m nothing to her and I want to hold her so no one can touch her—ever.
Malerick turns the stuffed pony over in his hands, his fingers pressing along the seams, his movements too careful, too precise. And then he stills.
His fingers press deeper into the plush fabric, feeling something just beneath the surface. My stomach twists.
“Mal,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You might want to distract Mads, Hop,” he says, before he grabs his knife from his belt, flipping it open with a quick flick of his wrist.
Cotton stuffing spills onto the counter, soft and weightless, floating through the air like dust motes.
At first, I don’t see anything, it’s just fluff. The insides of an innocent toy that should have never meant anything more than comfort to a little girl.
But then, I see it. A tiny black dot buried deep inside the stuffing connected to a wire. It’s no bigger than a dime. He reaches in, carefully extracting it, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger.
A camera.
“A fucking camera,” Mal mumbles.
“Oh, my God.” I stumble back, one hand over my mouth, my entire body numb with shock. It’s horrifying to know that we’ve been watched. Not just us, but Maddie. She’s been carrying it for days.
Everywhere she’s taken this stupid little toy—to the park, to the house, to her bed at night—they have been watching her.
Watching us.
Recording everything.
Hopper is silent, but I can see the glare at the camera. His grip on Maddie tightens for a brief second before he pulls her closer, as if he can shield her from it all, as if she hasn’t already been exposed to something monstrous.
Mal’s expression is stone cold, his jaw locked so tightly I hear the faint grind of his teeth. My breath shudders out of me.
“They’ve been watching,” I whisper. “They’ve been watching her—us.”
I don’t know if I’m going to be sick or if I’m going to scream.
Hopper’s voice is low, controlled—but there’s a lethal edge beneath it. “How long?” Hopper sounds like a live wire, barely contained, and whoever did this better pray to whatever God they believe in, because he’s going to rip them apart.
Mal exhales sharply, rolling the tiny camera between his fingers. “Not sure how long, but I’ll get this sent to the lab.” He hands it over to the guy they call my shadow.
I shake my head, trying to fight the rising panic, the absolute rage that is clawing its way up my throat. “What now?” My voice comes out low, cold.
Mal is completely still, his fingers digging into his arms, his broad chest rising and falling slowly—but I can see the tight control, the barely restrained fury in the way his muscles coil like a predator ready to strike.
“We find them,” he says, his voice dangerously calm. “We find them and we fucking end it.”
“We end it.” Hopper nods, slowly pulling Maddie back just enough to kiss the top of her head. She’s too sleepy to know what’s happening, her little body still limp and trusting in his arms.