Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
HUDSON
The antiseptic burns as the EMT cleans the gash on my skull.
My hands clench into fists on the gurney as she works, trying not to think about how much worse this could have been.
How much worse this still might be. Lily is missing and there’s nothing on the scene to tell the cops where she might be.
Cole sits on the next gurney over, holding an ice pack to his temple.
His usual cocky smirk has vanished, replaced by something I’ve never seen on his face before: fear.
Gage is across from us, getting three stitches in his forehead while glaring at the puddle of water pooling at his feet from his soaked clothes.
I guess before the attacker knocked me out, they got him, which explains the shout I heard.
“Try to think harder.” The police officer standing nearby shifts his weight, impatience bleeding through his professional composure. “Any detail could be important. Hair color, clothing, voices. Anything you remember about your attackers.”
My head throbs as I rack my brain, searching through the fractured memories. The crash. The empty car. Then pain and darkness. There was something, though. A flash of—
“Blonde.” The word is raw against my throat. “I think I saw blonde hair. Before everything went black.”
The officer scribbles in his notepad. “Length? Style?”
“I don’t know. It happened so fast.” Frustration claws at my chest. I should remember more. Should have seen more, done more. I should have protected her.
“The car they were driving was reported stolen three hours ago from a parking lot downtown,” the officer continues. “We’re running prints, but these types usually wear gloves.” The officer’s radio crackles to life, and he steps away to answer.
Cole’s jaw clenches. “This was planned. They came for Lily specifically.” He says what we’re all thinking. “Systematically knocked us out so they could get her alone.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, chasing thoughts about whatever this person might do to our girl.
My phone buzzes against my leg, and I fumble to pull it from my pocket, checking the screen. Some email. I make a note to unsubscribe from that list and go to lock the phone but pause at the notification above it.
Motion detected at Lily’s Renovation Project - Front Door Camera
My heart stops. Then starts again at triple speed.
“Holy shit.” I lurch to my feet, ignoring the EMT’s sharp protest and the way my skull erupts with pain.
Out of an abundance of caution and for insurance purposes, we always set up surveillance on projects.
Plenty of thieves like to try and steal equipment.
The EMT grabs for me. “Please, you need to sit back down.”
“What is it?” Cole’s already moving, ice pack forgotten.
I tap the notification with shaking fingers, and the app loads. The timestamp shows the alert came in twenty-three minutes ago—right around when I woke up on the road.
It’s as though my entire body is wrapped in electrical wire as I toggle to the footage, scrolling back to the indicated time.
Please don’t let it be her. Please let it be her.
Fuck, either way, let her be safe. The video feed loads slowly, buffering in agonizing chunks until the picture comes through in terrifying clarity.
The air is knocked clear out of my lungs.
A clamp tightens around my heart, threatening to obliterate it.
Lily’s being dragged through the front door of her house by someone in dark clothing.
She doesn’t move, and for a terrifying moment I fear the worst, but I fast forward and heave out a relieved breath when she wakes up and starts freaking out.
Then terror sets in again because she’s still there.
Spikes of fear drive into my chest. “We have to go.” I hop out of the ambulance, ignoring the shouts of surprise.
“What’s happening?” the officer asks as I rush by with Cole and Gage hot on my heels.
“She’s at the house we’re renovating.” I call out the address, but I don’t stop to make sure he got it. I have to get to her. WE have to get to her.
The cop spins around. “Wait!”
Absolutely not. Not when Lily is in danger. The officer shouts something about active crime scenes and staying put. That doesn’t stop me because I’m already sprinting toward my truck.
Fuck protocol.
My hands shake as I jam the key into the ignition. Cole slides into the passenger seat while Gage climbs in the back, both of them bleeding and battered but ready to fight for the woman we love. I’ll be damned if I let someone steal my happily-ever-after.
“Drive,” Cole says. His voice is deadly calm, mirroring the sudden focus that crashes over me.
Nothing matters–not the rain, or the cops, or the pain in my skull–except getting to Lily.
I floor it, tires squealing as we tear out of the driveway, leaving the flashing lights behind.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but the roads are still wet.
I take the corner onto Main Street fast enough to make the truck fishtail, then correct and punch the gas again.
Cop cars tear down the road behind us. Sirens blaring, lights flashing. Good. We need back up. Weapons. Trained professionals. I’d run head on into danger for Lily if that’s what was needed, but having the cops at our back is reassuring.
Gage leans forward between the seats. “How long ago was that footage?”
“Twenty-three minutes.” My knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “She could be—” I can’t finish the thought.
“She’s alive,” Cole says firmly. “Whoever it is went to a lot of trouble to take her. They want her alive.”
For now. The unspoken words hang heavy in the truck. Clenching my teeth, I weave through traffic, ignoring the honks and middle fingers from other drivers. We have to get there.
Soon. Now. I already feel too late. Like I’ve failed her a million times over. The thought of her scared and hurt and wondering where we are makes something violent and desperate claw at my chest. I press harder on the gas pedal, and the speedometer climbs.
We’re going to save her. We have to.
Because a life without Lily isn’t a life worth living.