Chapter Forty-Five
EMERY
BY THE TIME we reach Reid’s cabin, the water in the marsh has risen to the dock line.
The wind has picked up, and Reid pulls his truck right up to the porch to limit our time in the elements.
Still, in the time it takes to unlock his front door, the rain has begun to feel like thousands of needles pelting my skin.
Reid pushes the door open and we shove inside. He had the forethought to leave a lamp on and thank goodness he did because it’s otherwise pitch black. Luckily, we set various candles out around the front rooms of the cabin. We won’t be in the dark for long.
“Get changed. I’ll find the lighter.” He moves to the kitchen and begins rummaging through drawers.
I strip quickly, shivering hard. The storm has sucked the near August heat straight out of the air.
By the time I return wearing joggers and a hoodie, the room is washed in warm candlelight, and the gas fireplace crackles to life.
For one surreal moment, it looks like a scene from a movie—storm raging outside, golden light reflecting in Reid’s eyes.
“I thought we could warm up a bit,” he says, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.
“I know the storm has potential to ruin everything,” I say softly, a smile tugging at my lips. “But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Reid’s answering kiss is warm and coffee-flavored. “Me neither.”
We head for the couch with our mugs and Reid throws a plush blanket over us. I sink into the corner of the sofa, my legs draped across his lap, and the tension finally starts to drain from my shoulders.
“I’m so tired,” I murmur. “That was more manual labor than I think I’ve ever done.”
“You kept up,” he says, giving my foot a gentle squeeze. The simple touch drags my memory back to that first night when he rubbed my feet and everything between us felt reckless and impossible. It’s wild to think how far we’ve come in such a short time.
But clarity hits at the same time as unease.
“Tate was kind of weird today, right?” I ask, biting my lip uncertainly. “I mean…he didn’t seem like himself.”
Reid’s jaw works. “Tate hasn’t been himself for a while now.”
A cold chill runs through me. I knew I was picking up on something weird today, but I thought it was the stress of the storm. “Do you think he’s worried about the marina? The storm?”
“It’s more than that.” Reid exhales heavily. “He’s keeping something from me.”
I stare at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs helplessly. “Honestly, I don’t know. You and I have been dealing with a lot too, and you’re the only thing I’m really sure about. I was actually considering asking Tate to buy me out and following you wherever you go.” He pauses and then huffs a laugh, looking away. “Is that weird?”
My heart swells and cracks at the same time. I set my mug down and reach for his hand. “Not weird. I want to take the permanent position here for the same reason. Among all the dangers and unknowns—you’re the thing I’m sure about too. You love it here. And I love you.”
The relief on his face softens everything between us. He drags me closer, kissing the top of my head. “So, we’re in this together then, huh? Here?” he asks.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” I pause, resting my head on his shoulder. “And hey, you and Tate will sort things out. He’s your oldest friend.”
“I hope you’re right.” He reaches for his mug and slurps his coffee. “Oh, what the hell was Kayla saying about Atlas Rourke?”
I scoff. “Just teenage infatuation stuff. She thinks he’s cute. He’s been flirting with her, I guess. What looks like flirting to her looks like paying too-close attention to me.” I sigh.
“He’s way too old for her,” Reid growls.
“That and the fact that I’m not convinced it isn’t him who is harassing me. I have a visceral reaction every time he’s near me. I can’t explain it. He just gives me the creeps.”
“He wasn’t like that in the SEALs,” Reid says, pushing his lips together. “I only did one quick deployment with him, so I didn’t know him that well. And I was his superior, so I definitely wasn’t fraternizing with him. But I don’t remember him being so creepy. He’s got a weird look about him now.”
“PTSD maybe?”
“Maybe. Or something else.” He yawns, setting his mug down and opening his arms. “I don’t want to talk about Atlas anymore. Come here.”
I curl into them, resting my head on his strong chest. It takes a few beats but eventually my heart rate slows in the comfort of his arms. Before I know it, the exhaustion of the day settles in, and sleep takes us both.
We wake hours later to the sound of Reid’s phone buzzing sharply against the coffee table.
“What time is it?” I grumble, wiping my eyes.
“Five,” Reid says, reaching for his phone. “Tate’s calling me.”
The dread that hits my stomach is instant.
“Answer it,” I urge.
Reid answers and Tate’s voice bursts through, loud and frantic. “Have you or Emery seen Kayla? Her mom called me looking for her. She never came home.”
“What do you mean she never came home?” Reid demands.
“When did you two last see her?” Tate asks.
“Right before we sealed the last couple of windows. She was getting a ride home.” Reid leans his elbows on his knees and turns to me. “Do you know who picked her up?”
I shake my head, guilt clawing at my chest. Her excitement about Atlas flashes through my mind. Her sudden departure.
No. No, no, no.
“Shit,” Tate begs. “Can you two come help look for her? Her mom is losing her mind, and she can’t leave all her siblings alone.”
“Of course,” Reid says. “We’ll be right there.” He ends the call and flicks his gaze to mine. “I have the sinking feeling that something isn’t right.”
Panic courses through my veins as I try to recall my last few moments with Kayla. She was talking excitedly about Atlas until I shut her down. Then it seemed like she left abruptly—before the job was finished. I swallow the knot in my throat and grab my boots. “We better go.”
Reid nods. “Bundle up.”
THE DRIVE TO the marina is brutal. Sheets of rain slam the windshield so hard the wipers can’t keep up. Thunder and lightning call to each other in the distance, white webs spreading across the dark gray sky. When Reid finally pulls into the lot, it’s already half underwater.
Tate waits for us under the Bait Shop awning, drenched and waving his arms. Even from the truck, I can see the panic in him.
My gaze flicks beyond him to the boats in the marina, tugging on their lines like wild animals.
A metal sign smacks repeatedly against a piling, each slam ratcheting my pulse higher. The wind is relentless.
“Look!” Tate roars over the storm, pointing to a center-console boat that’s broken free on one side and is swinging violently with every gust, slamming into another hull.
We dive from the truck and run toward Tate, taking shelter under the small awning.
“Fuck,” Reid growls. “If she tears loose completely, she’ll take half the dock with her.”
He turns to me, his voice commander-level serious. “Emery, I need you to wait in The Drift Net. You’ll be safe there.”
I shake my head. “No. I can help—”
“You help by staying out of this mess. Please.” He hands me his keys, holding up a small gold one. “Let yourself in. We’ll be fast, then we find Kayla.”
I glance toward The Drift Net—dark, locked up since the July Fourth fire, but still standing. The explosion scarred the docks, not the building. It’s the safest place here. A crack of thunder sounds, punctuating his command. I swallow the tightness in my throat and nod.
Reid and Tate sprint toward the bucking boat, I run toward The Drift Net, its porch lights flickering in the gale. The wind howls across the marina like a coyote, tearing at my hood and sending stinging rain into my face. I’m fumbling with the key for the third time when a figure steps into view.
Atlas.
“Emery!” he calls, waving like we’re friends on any normal stormy evening. It’s forced and practiced, and it makes the coffee I just drank roil in my gut. “Tate sent me to get you. The boat is taking longer than they thought. He wants us to start looking for Kayla.”
“He…what? Five minutes ago, Reid told me to wait here. Inside.” My voice wavers, my heartrate stumbling.
Atlas steps closer, water dripping off his jacket in rivulets. “I just passed them. Storm’s getting bad. They want to find Kayla as soon as possible.”
Every instinct I have screams no. But then the guilt pricks at the back of my neck. I should have watched her get in the car earlier, or better yet, brought her home myself.
Lightning flashes overhead, blinding, and Atlas is already turning to go, expecting me to follow him.
“Come on,” he yells.
I glance back squinting in the distance—Reid and Tate are still fighting the loose boat, backs turned, completely consumed by the chaos. If I shout now, the storm will swallow my voice whole.
So, I ignore my instincts and force a breath. “Okay. Lead the way.”
Atlas smiles, sharp and satisfied, and starts up the dock, his boots splashing in the puddles. I stay several feet behind him, plotting potential escape routes, looking for something to grab to defend myself should I need it.
He stops in front of a storage shed and thumbs the combination lock. “In here. We’ll need more supplies.”
A cold dread runs down my spine. “Supplies? This doesn’t seem like—”
He shoves me hard and I stumble into the darkness, crashing into something hard. A work bench maybe? Pain blooms through my kneecap, stopping me in my tracks, and before I can react, the door slams shut. Metal scrapes and the padlock clicks back into place.
“What the fuck, Atlas? Let me out! What are you doing?” I pound both fists on the door.
His reply comes muffled. “Should’ve kept your nose out of things, sweetheart. Now you pay.”
His footsteps retreat, leaving me panicking in deafening silence.
And then I hear it. Crying. Shuddering.
“Hello?” I whisper into the void. “Who’s there?”
A small, broken voice wavers back. “Emery?”
I crash to my knees, fumbling under my windbreaker for the pocket to my hoodie and retrieve the small flashlight Reid thrust at me before taking off down the road.
I flick it on and a narrow beam of light shines in the darkness.
Kayla sits in the confined corner, her wrists joined with zip ties. Her face is blotchy and mascara streaked, and she’s trembling—but she’s alive.
“Oh my God, Kayla.” I scramble across the concrete to her, wrapping her in my arms. “Are you hurt?”
Relief collapses her into me, and she sobs. “No. But I should have listened to you. Atlas is a monster.”
“Shh,” I whisper. “Hey, I’ve got you, okay? We’re going to get out of here.”
“How?” Kayla wails. “What if he comes back?”
I pull back enough to look in her eyes. “Reid is here. Tate too. It’s only a matter of time before they realize we’re missing.”
The storm rips at the roof above us, a violent reminder that time is ticking. I push to my feet, the pain in my knees stopping me in my tracks. I shine the flashlight around the tight space. Coils of rope, old nets, rusted tools, crates, the scent of gasoline and damp wood.
“We’re not waiting,” I say, steadying my voice into something fierce. “We’ll signal them. Or make enough noise to wake the dead. But we’re not sitting around here waiting for Atlas fucking Rourke to come back.”
A flash of lightning lights up the space, illuminating the fear of Kayla’s face and strengthening my resolve. It’s followed by a crack of thunder that seems to reverberate through the shed.
And then everything goes black.