Chapter 19 Wrecker
WRECKER
Smoke wouldn’t leave the hallway.
He was crouched low to the ground, tail twitching, nose pressed to the last place Amanda had stood. Every few seconds he let out this low, guttural whine that turned my stomach inside out.
She was gone.
Gone in the way that didn’t feel real yet.
Like if I stood still long enough, she’d come back down the hallway with that look she got when Smoke dragged her somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Like I’d hear her voice before I saw her.
But the air didn’t shift.
Nothing changed.
The world kept moving without her in it.
And I already knew that.
We all did.
Cap had screamed the order before I was even through the gate—Track the van. Now. Ranger took off toward the tech room. Doc was tending to the guards. Ghost had his rifle slung over his shoulder and murder in his eyes.
But me?
I was frozen.
I stood in the middle of the hallway, fists clenched, heart hammering behind my ribs like it was trying to escape. Blood stained the floor. Amanda’s scent still hung in the air. My shampoo, her sweat, that faint sweetness that always hit me right behind the sternum.
Forty fucking minutes.
Forty minutes since I decided I was being paranoid.
Forty minutes since I told myself one sweep wouldn’t hurt.
Forty minutes since I walked away from the one thing I should’ve stayed glued to.
I’d trained men out of worse mistakes.
I’d buried people for less.
And now I was standing in a hallway that still smelled like her, trying not to choke on it.
Smoke growled low in his throat, pressing his body closer to the baseboard like he could track her through fucking drywall.
“I know, boy,” I whispered, crouching down beside him. My hand found his scruff, grounding us both. “We’re gonna get her back.”
My voice didn’t sound like mine.
Smoke’s ears flicked, sharp and alert, like he understood every word. His nose dragged along the floor again, deeper this time, following a line only he could see.
His body went rigid.
That low whine shifted into something else.
Certainty.
My pulse kicked harder.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “You’ve got something.”
Cap’s boots echoed behind me. “They had inside intel,” he said. “They knew her route, the weak spot in the rotation. They planned this.”
No shit.
My jaw locked as I rose to my feet.
“This was surgical,” I said. “They knew exactly how long Ariel would be distracted. They knew the timing of the guard rotation. And they knew Amanda would follow Smoke without hesitation.”
Cap gave a grim nod. “Means they’ve been watching longer than we thought.”
“Which means they’re close,” I said. “Still close.”
Close meant confidence.
Close meant arrogance.
Close meant they didn’t think we’d react fast enough to matter.
The rage that had been boiling in my gut all morning finally snapped into something sharper. Colder. Focused.
No more second-guessing instincts.
No more playing defense.
“They left a trail?” I asked.
“Ranger’s checking tire impressions,” Cap said. “Ghost pulled external camera footage—van looks like a standard contractor vehicle, no plates. But he’s running satellite overlays and traffic cams now.”
“What about the guards?”
“Doc sedated one. The other’s concussed, barely coherent. Said something about a man in a mask whispering in his ear.”
I didn’t need to ask what.
I already knew.
The elevator opens for everyone eventually.
My hands curled into fists.
“Smoke’s tracking?” I asked.
Cap glanced toward the dog. “He’s trying.”
“Let’s use it,” I said. “He caught her scent. We grab a leash, head to the fence line. If the van drove off property, there’ll be a trail. If not—we check the outbuildings.”
“Already flagged it with Brutus,” Cap said. “But I want you out there too. You’re the one she trusts. If she’s leaving breadcrumbs, you’ll see them.”
“Copy that.”
I turned back to Smoke and crouched.
“You ready to find your girl?” I whispered.
Smoke let out a sharp bark.
Yeah. Me too.
The tech room door slammed open like a bomb went off.
Brutus stalked in, still in his cut and half-covered in mud, a tablet clutched in one hand and his breathing like a bull on a rampage.
“Got something.”
Ghost was already halfway to the screen. Ranger dropped back into his seat, flicking the comms over to silent as Brutus slammed the tablet onto the table and jabbed the screen.
“Traffic cam off Route 10. Four minutes before the blackout. Gray van, partial plates. Matches the one Amanda got grabbed in.”
He tapped again, zooming in. There, in grainy footage and bad lighting, was the van. Plain as hell, no markings, but unmistakably the one from earlier reports. I stepped forward, and my gut turned to ice.
“Amanda?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.
Brutus swiped through the footage. “Frame-by-frame. Right here.”
He paused it on a blurry shot through the rear window.
Amanda’s red hair.
Her jacket.
Her body slumped sideways, limp like a fucking ragdoll.
The tablet cracked under my grip before I realized I was squeezing it.
I couldn’t look away.
The angle of her neck.
The slack line of her arm.
The way her hair fell across her face like she was asleep instead of drugged and zip-tied in the back of a fucking van.
That image burned itself into me.
Fuel.
“Wreck,” Ghost warned.
I let go, breathing sharp through my nose. The rage surged again, but this time it had direction.
Cap’s voice came in over the speaker system, clipped and sharp. “I’ve got a contact in Portland pulling traffic feeds and local chatter. They’re working on infrared overlays—looking for engine signatures that match the van.”
“ETA?” Ranger asked.
“Ten minutes, max. We’re not waiting.”
Ghost flicked another screen on. “I’ve narrowed the radius based on time and speed.
Assuming they hit the main road within two minutes of extraction, they’ve got a ten-mile lead tops.
Factoring for backroads and detours—” he pointed at the map pulsing on the wall, red lines lighting up, “we’ve got about seven viable routes.
Three lead to known safehouses. Two go cold. ”
“They wouldn’t go cold,” I said flatly. “They’d go buried.”
Ranger nodded grimly. “Which means the off-grid routes.”
Cap’s voice cut in again. “Ghost, keep scraping cameras. Brutus, you’re with Ranger. Plot every side road, trail, and service path in that radius. Assume they’re taking the one with the most tree cover and no cell service.”
“And me?” I asked.
“You’re prepping the assault,” Cap said without missing a beat. “Get the van packed. Gear loaded. Tactical kits updated. No misfires on this one.”
Prep meant rules.
Prep meant control.
It was the only thing keeping me from detonating.
“I’m leading it,” I said.
Silence.
Then Cap replied, calm but sharp: “You don’t get sloppy. You don’t get reckless.”
Sloppy got people killed.
Reckless got her taken.
I wasn’t going to be either.
“I won’t.” My voice was steel. “But I’m bringing her back.”
Cap didn’t argue.
The comms cut.
I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room.
Her door was half open.
I paused in the hallway, hand on the frame, grounding myself with the smallest detail of the sticker she’d slapped crooked across the wood last week. It was some dumb thing from a protein bar wrapper. Said “High Voltage Energy.” She thought it was hilarious.
Now it just looked like a ghost.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Amanda’s scent hit me first. Even if she was using my shampoo and body wash she still somehow smelled of vanilla and lemon and something warm underneath it all.
My sweatshirt was draped over the back of the chair.
Her mug still sat on the nightstand with half-melted cocoa sludge clinging to the rim.
The bed wasn’t even made. One of her socks was bunched near the foot like she’d kicked it off in a rush.
It wasn’t a shrine.
It was just her.
So alive it hurt to look at.
That was the worst part.
If it had looked staged, if it had felt preserved, maybe I could’ve compartmentalized it. Turned it into something distant.
But this was unfinished.
Interrupted.
She’d been planning to come back.
I crossed the room and crouched next to the dresser. A folded pile of laundry sat there, half-finished. One of her tank tops was tucked inside out, the tag sticking up like it was waiting to be fixed.
I touched it, just two fingers, barely a brush, and felt the weight of it hit my chest.
She’d been here. Hours ago. Maybe minutes before I walked out that gate like a fucking idiot.
I clenched my fists tightly.
I stared at the clothes. The blanket she always dragged to the common room when she wanted to watch bad movies. The bent paperback on the floor. The dent in her pillow where her head had rested last night.
She was so close.
And so goddamn far.
“I’m coming,” I said, the words barely above a whisper.
I stood, locked my shoulders, and turned toward the door.
“I swear to God, Amanda,” I said louder, voice steady now. “I’m bringing you home. And the people who took you? They’re gonna wish they never drew breath.”
This wasn’t hope.
It wasn’t faith.
It was a guarantee.
I didn’t look back as I walked out.
Because I couldn’t.
If I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave.