Chapter 36
I’m preparing to fight tonight. Gloves on, tape tight, and Will and JT trading strategy as if this is any other Friday. I bounce on my toes in the gym, working through the motions while my mind stays split: half on the ring, half on Sable.
Then the phone rang.
Sable.
I don’t need to hear more than three words to grab my shit and haul ass out the doors.
“She took him.”
Ashley fucking Vaughn.
She’s crossed into a place she won’t return from.
I fling myself behind the wheel and fly out of the lot. I’m doing sixty through a residential zone, praying I don’t see red and blue in my rearview. Not until I get there. Not until I know they’re safe.
The path narrows to a single point. Sable. Everything else—my fight, Stauder, whatever bullshit he’s about to pull tonight—it can burn.
Sable’s voice rattles in my head, strung so tight with fear I could feel it cutting her in half. She tried to hide it. She always does. She thinks being strong means going at it alone.
But I heard her. And the second she said Ashley’s name, I stopped breathing.
JT’s got eyes on the traffic cams. He’s working her plates, scanning for every blonde in a ten-mile radius of that park. Will’s holding down the bar. I told them I'd call if I needed backup—didn't need to say it, but I did, as if the words themselves could ward off disaster.
But right now, it’s just me. This truck. The engine roaring as I punch it through a yellow light with half a second to spare.
My knuckles whiten around the wheel.
Sable’s got the Sig. We checked the boxes: Registered in her name and a concealed carry permit in case some asshole cop decides to ask questions. I trained her how to hold it, when to draw, and how to move.
Because I knew there might come a day when she would have to use it.
God, please don’t let that day be today.
She’s already on her way. I don’t blame her. Bash is out there. That sweet, scrappy little kid who’s already been through too much. I’d be doing the same thing. Hell, I am. But Sable walking into that park alone with Ashley somewhere out there?
My fucking nerves are burning.
Seeing JT the other night—bloodied and broken—felt like a knife twisted in my gut.
But Sable—fuck, Sable. If she gets hurt trying to protect him… It will destroy my very being. I’d never forgive myself.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, sharp and loud. The echo ricochets through the cab.
“Come on,” I grit out, leaning into the next curve, tires squealing as I take it a bit too fast.
I see the park coming into view.
Almost there. Hold on, Sable. I'm coming.