Chapter 48
chapter
forty-eight
Millie’s thoughts raced. “You’ve really been tracking me this whole time?”
“Of course.” Garrick said the words as if they were the most natural thing in the world. “I came by a few days ago—I left at night and was back by morning so no one knew I was gone. I just wanted to scout the area. Make sure you were really here.”
Her breath caught. “The PI. You ran into him, didn’t you?”
Garrick’s expression darkened. “I stumbled on some guy lurking in the woods. Watching the place with binoculars. He saw me.” He shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You killed him.” Horror washed over her.
“I only meant to knock him out.” He sounded almost defensive. “But I guess I hit him too hard with that rock. It was tragic, really. But after it was done, it was done. I couldn’t do anything about it—except run.”
Millie’s knees went weak.
Garrick had killed someone. Because of her.
Was everyone at the house safe right now? Since Garrick had what he wanted—her—did that mean he’d leave everyone else alone?
Probably.
But she still hated the fact that she’d put others in danger by coming here.
“And Max?” The words came out barely above a whisper. “Were you the one who attacked him?”
“I tried to get onto the property through the kennel, but he was there.” Garrick’s jaw tightened. “If he saw me, it would have all been over. So yeah, I knocked him out. Had to.”
“You could have killed him too. Did you ever think about that?”
“But I didn’t.” Garrick stopped walking and turned to face her fully. His eyes bore into hers. “Don’t you see, Millie? This is all your fault. You make me do these things. You make me desperate.”
The words hit her like a physical blow.
This is all your fault.
The PI’s death. Max’s injury. All of it because she’d run.
If she’d just stayed—
No.
She caught herself, the familiar spiral of guilt trying to pull her under.
This wasn’t her fault. None of it was. It was Garrick’s.
These had been his choices. His violence. His obsession.
But the small, broken part of her—the part that had lived with his manipulation for years—whispered that maybe, just maybe, if she’d tried harder, said the right words, loved him better, been enough . . .
No, those are lies, Millie. Don’t listen to them. You’re not responsible for his actions.
She wasn’t sure where the voice came from—unless it was from God.
They gave her the strength to square her shoulders and lift her chin.
This wasn’t her fault, and she couldn’t blame it on herself any longer.
She met his gaze. “You’re wrong. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t make you do any of these things. You made those decisions.”
“Did I? You made the choice to marry me. That’s on you.” He started walking again, pulling her along. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. But whatever truth you chose to believe, you’re still going to be the one who bears the consequences of what has happened.”
Caleb’s truck skidded to a stop in front of the house. He was out before the engine fully died, his boots hitting the gravel hard.
Max burst through the side door, his face pale, and Hamilton following him.
“She went after Biscuit.” Max moved toward the side of the house. “The back gate was wide open. I tried to follow, but—”
“Show me.” Caleb’s voice was clipped, controlled.
He couldn’t afford panic. Not now.
They rounded the house at a run. The back gate stood open, swinging slightly in the breeze. Beyond it, the woods were dark—too dark.
Caleb pulled his phone out and dialed Wyatt as he slipped through the gate.
“Yeah?” Wyatt’s voice came through after two rings.
“I need you at Refuge Cove. Now. Bring Thunder.” Caleb scanned the tree line, looking for any sign of movement. “Millie’s in the woods. Someone’s after her.”
“On my way. I was headed to Jen’s house, so I’m only five minutes out.”
Caleb ended the call and looked at Max. “Stay here. If she comes back—”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Caleb’s tone left no room for argument. “You’ve already been knocked out once today. Besides, I need you here in case she doubles back. Grab something of Millie’s for Thunder to track her scent.”
Max hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Be careful.”
Caleb was already moving into the woods.
He grabbed his gun from its holster, the familiar weight both comforting and terrifying. He never wanted to use it. But if it came to that—if Garrick gave him no choice . . .
He pushed the thought away and focused on the trail ahead.
The light was nearly gone, shadows pooling between the trees. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, sweeping the beam across the ground.
There. Footprints in the soft earth. Too large to be Millie’s.
And beside them, smaller prints.
Small enough to be Biscuit’s.
His jaw clenched.
He followed the trail, Hamilton at his side. He moved quickly, straining to hear any sound.
Behind him, he heard the rumble of an engine. Headlights swept across the property.
Wyatt’s truck.
Caleb backtracked to the driveway. Wyatt was already out, Thunder at his side.
“What happened?” Wyatt asked, clipping a long lead to Thunder’s harness.
“I think Millie’s ex found her.”
Wyatt’s expression hardened. He knelt beside Thunder as Max returned with a sweatshirt he’d grabbed from Millie’s room. “Thunder, search.”
The dog sniffed the fabric, his tail going rigid. Then his head snapped up, nose working the air.
“Search,” Wyatt repeated.
Thunder pulled forward, his body tense with purpose.
They moved into the woods, Thunder leading the way. Caleb kept his flashlight trained on the ground ahead and his weapon ready at his side.
Every second felt like an eternity.
Please let Millie be okay. Please.
They sprinted deeper into the forest.
Were they still out here?
What if Garrick had a car waiting? If he’d somehow left town with her?
His pulse pounded harder.
Please, Lord. Keep her safe.
They kept moving at a fast pace, following Thunder’s lead.
The dog suddenly stopped, his ears pricking forward. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
Then Caleb heard it.
Voices.
Someone was out here.
They were close.
Now they needed to plan their next moves.