Chapter 71
The van’s headlights cut a narrow path through trees and the empty shoulder.
Twenty minutes have passed since they left the house.
Naomi keeps checking the mirrors, then the kids, then the mirrors again.
Travis keeps both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, trying to drive normal when nothing feels normal.
Elise sits rigid in the back seat, shoulders lifted and arms folded tight.
Ryan leans forward between the seats, tracking every passing sign and every break in the tree line.
Krueger paces in the limited space behind the back row, leash clipped to a metal anchor in the cargo area.
He tries to push toward the doors anyway, but the leash stops him short each time.
Luna sits in her carrier on the seat near Naomi, eyes open, body still, ears turning toward every sound.
Naomi exhales hard. “I hate this.”
Travis doesn’t look at her. “I know, I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Naomi smirks, “It’s okay, at least I get to spend more time trauma bonding with you.”
Travis slowly reaches for her hand. Naomi laces her fingers in his.
The road is quiet and dark until red and blue lights flash in the mirrors.
Travis’s grip tightens on the wheel.
Naomi turns in her seat, eyes wide and fast.“Shit, is that the police?”
“Fuck,” Travis says.
The patrol vehicle closes the distance without hesitation. The lights stay on. The vehicle stays close, holding their bumper in its glare.
Krueger lifts his head and growls. He surges forward again and hits the end of the leash. The clip snaps him back. He fights it anyway, muscles tight, body twisting, trying to get between the kids and whatever is behind them.
Naomi’s voice goes sharp. “We should pull over.”
Travis shakes his head once. “No.”
Naomi stares at him. “Travis, we can’t run. We’ve got two kids back here.”
Elise sits up straighter. “What’s happening?”
Ryan’s voice comes out quiet. “Are we getting stopped?”
Naomi turns toward them, forcing her tone down. “It’s okay. Nobody moves around. Just stay calm.”
Then she looks back at Travis. “It might be highway patrol. It might be nothing. If we don’t stop, we make it worse.”
Travis scans the shoulder ahead, then the trees, then the rearview. The patrol car stays close enough to fill the van with colored light. The pressure doesn’t let up.
Travis signals and eases onto the shoulder.
The van rolls to a stop. The engine drops to idle. The road goes quiet in a way that makes every small sound stand out.
A door slams behind them.
Footsteps crunch on gravel.
A flashlight beam sweeps across the rear windows, then moves forward. It pauses on the kids. It pauses on Naomi. It pauses on Krueger, who snaps his teeth at the air and growls again.
Travis swallows. He lowers the driver window halfway.
The man outside moves slowly. The badge catches the flashlight glare. He leans in close enough that his breath fogs the glass edge.
Travis recognizes his eyes first.
Grant smiles.
Naomi freezes beside Travis. Elise’s stare locks on the window. Ryan’s face goes pale in one fast shift.
Grant raises a gun and presses it against Travis’s temple through the opening.
“Don’t move. Don’t reach for anything.”
Travis holds the wheel with both hands. His knuckles go white.
Naomi’s voice shakes. “Travis.”
Grant’s gaze slides to her. “You’re going to do exactly what I say.”
His eyes move to the back seat. Elise and Ryan don’t speak. Both of them watch his hands.
Grant pulls the driver door open. Cold air rushes into the van. “Everybody out,” he says. “Now.”
Naomi starts to speak. Grant cuts her off. “Out.”
Travis steps out first, slow and careful. His shoes hit gravel. He keeps his hands visible. Naomi climbs out next with her hands up, forcing herself to breathe. Elise climbs out stiff and furious. Ryan follows, eyes darting between the patrol car and the trees.
Krueger tries to jump out behind them. The leash yanks him back hard. He growls and thrashes, trapped by the clip in the cargo area.
Three men step into view around him, all armed. One stays near the patrol car. One stays near the shoulder, watching the road. One moves closer, his gun angled toward the kids without a tremor.
Naomi’s eyes widen.
Grant’s smile stays calm. “Turn around,” he says to Travis.
Travis hesitates for half a beat. The gun presses closer to his head.
Travis turns. A man grabs his wrists and cinches zip ties tight.
The plastic bites into skin. Travis flinches once and forces himself still.
Naomi is next. She jerks when the zip ties snap shut, then steadies her breathing and lifts her chin.
“Kids,” Grant says.
Elise shakes her head. “No.”
One of the men seizes her arm and forces her hands back. Elise fights once, hard and fast. The gun moves closer to her chest. Elise freezes, breathing through her nose, eyes bright with rage and fear. The zip ties snap shut around her wrists.
Ryan’s breath turns shallow. Naomi twists toward him as much as she can. “Ryan, stay with me.”
Ryan’s eyes stay locked on Grant as another man grabs his wrists. The zip ties tighten. Ryan doesn’t cry. His lower lip trembles anyway.
Grant nods toward the trees. “Walk,” he says.
Travis’s eyes flick to the shoulder and then to the dark beyond the road. “Where are you taking us?”
Grant steps closer, gun still up. “Deep enough that nobody hears you.”
The men move in tight around them, guns trained, forcing the group away from the shoulder and toward the tree line. Travis tries to angle his body toward the kids. One of the men shoves him forward.
“Keep moving!”
They step off the gravel and into the brush.
Leaves and twigs snap under their shoes. Cold air cuts through their clothes. The patrol lights stay behind them, flashing through branches until the trees swallow the road.
Naomi stumbles on uneven ground. One of the men grabs her arm and yanks her upright.
Elise tries to twist her bound hands behind her back, testing the zip ties. The plastic doesn’t give. She clenches her jaw, refusing to let anyone see her hands shake.
Ryan walks with his shoulders hunched, eyes wide, trying to keep his footing. Naomi presses her shoulder against him whenever she can, trying to keep him close without making the men suspicious.
Grant stays near the front, guiding them deeper. He doesn’t need a flashlight. He moves as if he already knows where the ground dips and where the branches hang low.
Travis keeps looking for a break in the trees, any opening where he could run. Every time his weight shifts, a gun moves with him. Every time he slows, a hand shoves him forward again.
They walk deeper. The trees thicken. The ground grows softer and slicker underfoot. Travis’s wrists ache where the zip ties cut into skin.
Grant stops after several minutes and lifts a hand. The men halt with him, guns still raised.
They stop in a small clearing where the trees thin just enough to show the sky. The ground dips there, soft with damp leaves and exposed roots. The road noise is gone. The flashing lights are gone. Everything that could’ve helped them disappears behind the trees.
Naomi and the kids stop too, bodies stiff, breath loud in the quiet. Grant takes a slow step closer. One of the men adjusts his aim to match the movement. The barrel follows Travis’s head as if it is attached.
“You know,” Grant says, “it took me a minute to figure out who they were working with to hack into The Collective’s database.”
Naomi swallows hard. The man behind her presses the gun closer to her head, and Naomi freezes again.
“But then it clicked,” Grant continues. “The timing. The way every problem kept turning into an advantage for them. The way you all knew to be in the right place at the right time.”
Travis’s lips part.
Grant tips his head, watching him. “You’re the one behind the screen. The one who made doors open. The one who made evidence vanish. The one who made my family easy to find.”
Naomi’s breath hitches. Her eyes squeeze shut for half a second, then open again.
Grant’s smile widens. “Now you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He leans in closer to Travis’s face. “You gave her the information to kill my family.”
Elise makes a sound through her teeth. The gun near her shifts immediately.
“Quiet!” the man warns.
Elise shuts her mouth. Her eyes stay locked on Grant, hate so bright it looks reckless.
Grant straightens and looks at all of them. “Family is important, right?”
Naomi starts sobbing, “Please don’t do this.”
Grant ignores her. “I already took everyone they love.”
Travis’s face tightens. Ryan’s eyes go wider. Elise’s throat works as if she is trying to swallow something that won’t go down.
Grant’s tone stays even. “Except for you four.”
Travis’s head lifts a fraction. His voice comes out rough. “They’re just kids.”
Grant stares at him for a moment. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Naomi shakes her head hard. Tears run down her face anyway. She keeps wiping them with her shoulder because her hands can’t move.
Grant takes one step back, then points his gun toward Naomi. Then he shifts it toward Elise and Ryan.
“You,” he says to Travis. “Or them.”
Ryan’s breath starts coming fast. Naomi leans closer to him. Elise’s chin lifts again. Her mouth trembles. Travis’s shoulders shake once. He forces them still.
Grant lifts his free hand and points at Travis’s chest. “Decide.”
Travis looks at the kids.
Ryan’s eyes are fixed on him. He doesn’t speak.
Elise’s face is tight with fury and fear, both fighting for space. She shakes her head once.
Travis’s mouth opens. It closes again. His eyes squeeze shut for one beat, then open, glassy and raw.
“Grant,” Travis says. His voice cracks on the name. “If you want to hurt Brooke, do it to me.”
Grant laughs, like he has been waiting for that line.
“Oh, I will,” he says. “Don’t get it twisted. You’re all dying. This is only about order.”
Naomi makes a small sound that turns into a sob. The gun at her head doesn’t move.
“Me,” Travis says. The word scrapes out of him. “Take me.”
Grant’s expression shifts with interest. He looks entertained.
“Wow,” Grant chuckles. “You think that’s noble?”
He steps closer, “It isn’t.”
Travis’s breathing turns ragged. “Please.”
Grant’s voice drops. “You’re picking yourself because you don’t want to watch. You’re trying to escape what I’m going to do to them.”
Naomi’s sobbing gets louder. Ryan starts crying. Elise’s shoulders shake hard.
Grant straightens again. “That’s not as heroic as you think.”
Travis swallows hard and lifts his chin, forcing himself to stay upright even as the zip ties cut deeper into his wrists. Blood has already slicked the plastic where he has struggled against it.
Grant keeps the gun trained on Travis’s chest. Grant reaches into his jacket with his other hand and pulls out a knife.
Naomi screams Travis’s name.
Grant steps closer without lowering the gun. The barrel stays aimed at Travis’s heart while the knife flashes forward.
The blade drives into Travis’s side.
Travis’s body jerks violently against the restraints.
A raw sound tears out of his throat as the steel sinks deep into muscle.
Grant rips the knife free and drives it in again, lower this time, forcing it between Travis’s ribs.
Blood spills instantly, running down Travis’s shirt and dripping onto the ground.
His knees buckle.
One of the men beside him grabs his shoulder and yanks him upright so Grant can keep stabbing.
Grant twists the blade before pulling it out, then plunges it back into Travis’s abdomen with brutal force while the gun remains fixed on his chest. Travis gasps and chokes, his body convulsing against the zip ties while blood soaks through his clothes and pools beneath his boots.
Grant pulls the blade free and goes again, higher this time. Travis chokes on his breath. His face twists. His eyes go unfocused for a second, then snap back, wild with pain.
Naomi and Elise scream, Ryan cries so hard he can barely breathe.
Grant doesn’t rush. He watches Travis’s face each time.
When Travis sags, the man holding him tightens his grip and forces him upright again.
Grant crouches slightly, bringing his face level with Travis’s. “This is the part Seth and Brooke don’t understand,” he says quietly. “You can be smart and still be powerless.”
Travis tries to lift his head. He can’t hold it. His breathing turns shallow and uneven. His mouth opens as if he has something to say, but his body stops cooperating. His shoulders drop. His weight goes heavy in the man’s grip.
Naomi makes a broken sound that doesn’t resemble words anymore.
Grant stands and wipes the blade on Travis’s jacket.
Then Grant steps toward Naomi.
Naomi backs up a half step, even though there is nowhere to go. The gun at her head forces her to stop. Her eyes are wide and wet, and she is shaking hard.
“Please,” Naomi pleads. “Please.”
Grant looks past her to the kids, as if he wants them to see everything.
He lifts the knife.
Naomi’s breath hitches. Elise fights the zip ties again, wrists twisting, plastic biting deeper. Ryan sobs and tries to step toward Naomi, but the man with the gun shoves him back with a hard hand to the shoulder.
Grant’s voice stays calm. “Now you’re going to show me what you’re willing to lose.”
He angles the knife toward Naomi’s throat, close enough that she can feel the cold metal.
“Don’t move. This is going to get messy.”