Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
MACKENZIE
H is arms come around me, pulling me into his chest, and for a brief moment, I let myself lean into him. I can't deny the pull—Heath's always had that effect on me, the kind of magnetism that makes it hard to breathe. The way he smells, the warmth of his body against mine—it makes my pulse stutter.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low, that teasing edge still present.
I pull away quickly, shaking my head as frustration claws its way to the surface. “Don’t, ‘hi beautiful’ me. You left. You didn’t even take my calls for a fucking year. What the fuck is up with that?” My voice cracks at the end, and I hate it. I hate how easily my emotions seem to spill when it comes to him.
Heath looks at me, his expression guarded, but his lips curl into that same arrogant, too-perfect smile that always makes me weak in the knees. “Why? Did you miss me?” he asks, voice low, full of that all-too-familiar charm that made me fall for him over and over again since I was thirteen years old.
I grit my teeth, my anger rising as memories flood back—the late-nights in the cemetery, and the fact he was there when I needed him most. “You’re full of it,” I snap, my gaze flicking to the side, unable to meet his eyes for too long. “You’re the one who disappeared. And you expect me to just forget that?”
But even as the words leave my mouth, I know I'm lying. Because even with the hurt, even with the anger, there's a part of me that will never stop caring for him or any of my friends. Heath’s the one person who could always break through my walls, and that’s what terrifies me the most.
Heath steps closer, his eyes darkening, searching mine for something I can’t give him right now. “I missed you, too,” he says, his voice softer now, tinged with sincerity. “But I had my reasons, Kenzie. And I’m not ready to even talk about that right now.”
Part of me wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make him explain why. But the situation is too critical. Gabriella’s safety is what matters. I force myself to breathe, to focus.
“For now, I need to focus on my daughter,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Right now, that’s all that matters. But when we’re done with this, you have some explaining to do.”
His face hardens for a moment, a flicker of something. There is a reason he left St. Jude’s and that reason will get him killed. “I know,” he mutters. “I’ll get her back to you, Mackenzie. Whatever it takes.”
I nod, trying to mask the rush of emotions that stir inside me. There's so much I want to say, but right now, there's no room for that. Just Gabriella. Just making sure she’s safe.
I take a deep breath, fighting the lump in my throat. “Thank you. I’m so fucking glad you’re home.”
I move into his arms. The feeling of him holding me is familiar—comforting, despite everything—but it’s fleeting. I can’t let myself be vulnerable, not with what’s hanging over us. I pull away almost immediately, but then I hear a throat clearing, sharp and deliberate.
I turn just in time to see Creed standing there, his gaze fixed on us like a predator eyeing its prey. His expression is pure cold fury, and for a moment, I swear I can see the storm brewing in his eyes. He’s glaring at Heath as if he's about to slit his throat right here and now.
“Just catching up, man,” Heath smirks, his usual cocky attitude creeping back in. “This one’s always been yours.”
I step between them, trying to defuse the situation, but it’s like standing between two raging fires. Creed’s eyes don’t leave Heath, and I know I’m caught in the middle of something much bigger than me.
“Focus, Mackenzie,” Creed says slowly, the command in his voice making my chest tighten. His eyes lock onto mine, like he's trying to pull me back to reality. “We’ve got more pressing matters than your reunion.”
I nod, fighting the urge to snap back. I want to say something, anything, to get under his skin the way he’s always done to me, but the truth is, he's right. We don't have time for distractions. Not when Gabriella is out there, somewhere.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to push everything else aside.
***
The coordinates come through as a single ping on Flynn’s phone, the numbers stark against the screen. No message. No context. Just a set of numbers leading to an unknown location.
Creed leans over the table, studying the digits, his jaw tight as he commits them to memory. He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him, sharp and volatile. His fingers drum against the wood, his mind already racing ahead, strategizing.
Flynn pulls up the map, and a pin drops over a location just outside the city.
Larken narrows his eyes at the image on the screen. “Looks like an old apartment complex. Condemned, maybe. No records of it being used in the last decade.”
“That’s where she is,” I whisper, my stomach knotting.
Creed finally looks at me then, his gaze dark. “Yeah. That’s where she is.”
A silence stretches between us, thick with everything we don’t have time to say. There’s no doubt in my mind that Diego’s men will be waiting. We’re walking straight into a trap, but we don’t have a choice.
“How many do you think we’re up against?” Heath asks, arms crossed as he watches the screen.
“At least two dozen,” Larken says. “Maybe more, depending on how much manpower Diego is willing to sacrifice to get to us.”
“That’s not a problem,” Heath says, his lips curling into a smirk. “The Hell’s Knights have men ready to ride and have been itching for a fight.”
Creed nods. “Between them, my men, and St. Jude’s, we’ve got the numbers. We hit fast, we hit hard, and we don’t leave until Gabriella is with us.”
I swallow hard, my hands clenched into fists. “We need to be smart about this. If we go in blind, they’ll use her as leverage. We need to know where she is in that building before we breach.”
“We will,” Creed assures me. “We already have men taking point, and scouting the perimeter. Heath, Flynn, get your men ready. We move at first light.”
The room erupts into motion, plans forming as men and women prepare for war. But I barely hear any of it. My entire body is locked in a state of rigid anticipation, every nerve ending screaming that we’re running out of time.
Creed steps up to me, the chaos around us fading into the background. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lifts a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin. The touch is brief, but it grounds me, anchors me to him.
“We’re gonna get her back, Mackenzie,” he murmurs, his voice rough with conviction.
I nod, but my throat is too tight to speak. I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t.
Creed doesn’t give me the chance to fall into that thought. He closes the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine with a desperate kind of intensity. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s a promise. A war cry wrapped in a kiss. A vow that no matter what it takes, he’ll bring our daughter home.
When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine for a fleeting second. “Next time we do this, we’ll have our little girl safe, and then I’m not letting either of you go.”
Then he’s gone, moving toward the others, giving orders, preparing for the fight ahead.
And all I can do is hope that he’s right.