Chapter Twelve
Avery couldn’t look away from the screen. Mick’s face filled it, bloodied and broken, his head slumped forward. Every bruise looked fresh. Every cut screamed pain.
Her stomach went into a hard knot. She’d seen enough photos like this in her old life to know it wasn’t staged. Still, a small voice in her head whispered, What if?
Then the distorted voice poured through the speakers again, dragging her attention away from the image.
“The photo of Mick should have gotten your full attention.”
Noah stepped closer to the console, his expression carved from stone. “You already had our attention,” he said. “Is this a hoax?”
The caller gave a low, almost amused sound. “No hoax. Mick has been a very bad boy. A traitor. And this is what happens to traitors.”
A new alert popped up on Isla’s monitor. Another file.
“Another image coming in,” she said quietly.
The second photo filled the screen. Riley and Megan again. But this time Riley’s face was swollen, blood streaking down from a cut near her temple. Megan’s expression was frozen in terror, her eyes wide and wet.
Avery felt her chest tighten until she could barely draw breath.
Riley had been fine in the first image. Now she was hurt.
The message was clear.
They weren’t bluffing.
Avery’s stomach tightened so hard she thought she might be sick. The image of Riley’s battered face burned into her mind, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
She stepped closer to the console. “What do I have to do?” she asked, her voice unsteady but loud enough to carry.
Both Noah and Jackson turned toward her, the same sharp look in their eyes. Neither of them liked her stepping in. Jackson’s jaw tightened, and Noah’s hand moved toward the mic like he meant to cut her off.
Before he could, the altered voice came through again, smooth and mocking. “There she is. The woman of the hour.” A short chuckle followed, low and ugly. “You’ll get your instructions soon, Avery Hastings.”
A chill ran through her. “When?” she demanded.
“In thirty minutes,” the caller said. “We’ll call you back. Follow the instructions exactly, and the three hostages will be released.”
The line went dead, leaving nothing but static.
Avery stared at the screen, her heart pounding so hard she felt it in her throat. She didn’t move until Noah reached forward and killed the feed completely.
The room was silent, every tech and operative frozen in place.
Thirty minutes.
That was all she had to wait, but it already felt like forever.
Jackson’s voice broke the silence first. “They won’t release them,” he said flatly. “If they get their hands on Avery, there’s nothing stopping them from killing all three hostages anyway.”
Noah didn’t argue. His gaze stayed locked on the photo still frozen on the main screen. Riley’s swollen, bloodied face. His niece. He muttered a curse under his breath and dragged a hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself.
“Once they give us a meeting point,” he said finally, “we’ll work on a decoy.”
A hand shot up from across the room. “I’ll volunteer,” Isla said.
Avery turned toward her, shocked. “No. You could be killed.”
Isla gave a quick shrug, her expression calm. “That sort of comes with the job.”
Jackson frowned. “You sure about this?”
“Completely,” Isla said, already pulling something up on her computer. “Avery and I have similar builds. All I’ll need is a wig and a five-second mask.”
Avery blinked. “What’s a five-second mask?”
Isla grinned slightly, spinning the monitor toward her. “This.”
On the screen was a digital image of Avery’s own face. Isla tapped the corner of the image. “It’s a thin polymer layer that can mimic facial features. I can print it right here. It takes five seconds to apply and another five to peel off.”
Avery stared at the screen, both uneasy and impressed. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious,” Isla said. “If they want Avery Hastings, they’ll get her.”
Avery looked at the photo again, then at Isla’s determined expression. Her chest tightened. “I don’t want you dying for me.”
Isla gave her a soft smile. “Then make sure they don’t get the chance.”
Across the room, one of the techs looked up from his console. “Incoming call through dispatch,” he said.
Noah didn’t hesitate. “Put it through.”
The line clicked open, and a familiar voice filled the room. Avery’s stomach tightened at the sound of it.
“I want to speak to Avery now,” the woman snarled.
Charlotte Barker.
She wasn’t calm this time. Her voice came through sharp and shaking with anger. “Someone has my son,” she snapped. “What the hell did you people do?”
Avery stiffened.
Noah kept his tone even. “Who is this?”
“Don’t play games with me,” Charlotte shot back. “You know exactly who this is. Mick’s missing, and your team is behind it. Did Crossfire Ops take him as a bargaining tool?”
Jackson muttered something under his breath, but Noah stayed composed, his expression unreadable. “We’re looking into a number of things right now, Mrs. Barker,” he said. “If you believe your son’s missing, you should file a report with the sheriff’s office.”
“Don’t insult me,” Charlotte snapped. “You think I don’t know what you people are capable of? If you’ve touched him, I swear you’ll regret it.”
Charlotte’s voice came through again, sharp and accusing. “Did Warren have any part in my son being taken?”
Noah’s expression didn’t change. “We’re still sorting through information, Mrs. Barker. There are several moving parts right now.”
“That’s not an answer,” Charlotte snapped.
Before Noah could respond, Avery stepped closer to the console. “Maybe it wasn’t Warren,” she said. “Maybe Darian took him.”
There was a short silence on the line, just the faint hum of static. Avery pressed on. “I saw Darian slap you outside of Warren’s place.”
The line went quiet. For several seconds, Charlotte didn’t say a word.
When she finally spoke again, her voice was colder, controlled. “That was a misunderstanding,” Charlotte spat out.
Avery’s pulse jumped. She didn’t need to see Charlotte’s face to know she’d struck a nerve. “Right,” Avery murmured.
Charlotte’s voice sharpened again, louder this time. “If you have my son, you’re going to pay. And you’ll pay hard.”
The line went dead.
Avery stared at the screen for a moment before turning to Jackson. “Charlotte definitely didn’t want to discuss that slap.”
Jackson’s brow furrowed. “No, but I still believe it could’ve been staged,” he said. “Charlotte’s smart enough to pull something like that if she thought it would make her look like the victim.”
Yes, she could, and the thought settled over Avery like a weight she couldn’t shake.
Before anyone could say another word, one of the techs called out, “Another incoming call.”
Avery’s pulse spiked, and the sickening dread raced through her.
“Put it through,” Noah instructed.
The altered voice filled the room again, low and distorted. “I trust you’ve had time to think, Avery.”
Her throat went dry. “I’m listening.”
“Good,” the voice said. “You’ll come alone. Abandoned rest stop off County Road 72. South entrance. One hour.”
Avery knew that exact spot. Isolated and creepy. “How do I know you’ll release the hostages?”
“You’ll know when we decide you’ve earned it.”
Static crackled, then the line went silent.
Noah looked at the techs. “Trace it.”
Isla was already typing, eyes fixed on the monitors. Avery’s heart hammered in her chest as she turned toward Jackson.
One hour.
That was all they had.