Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
The apartment door clicked shut behind Hunter, and Brie immediately knew that something terrible had happened.
“Did you find Sophie?” she whispered.
Hunter froze in the entryway before he pulled out his phone and joined her on the couch.
“I need to show you something.” His voice was rough, scraped raw.
He held out the phone. The screen showed a screenshot. Sophie’s face filled the frame, duct tape over her mouth, zip ties holding her to a metal chair. Purple bruises bloomed across her left cheek, and her eyes were wide with terror.
“Oh my god.” Brie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sophie.”
“There’s more.” Hunter swiped to the next image.
Three more people bound to chairs. People she knew. People who bought her pastries, who smiled at her on the street, who made up the fabric of Fate Mountain.
The next screenshot made her stomach heave.
It was Thomas Brennan, but catastrophically mutated.
He was part human, part bear. His features twisted into something that shouldn’t exist. One human eye, one bear eye.
Patches of fur sprouting from raw, infected skin.
His mouth couldn’t close properly. His human teeth and bear fangs created a grotesque grimace.
“He’s alive.” The words felt impossible even as she said them.
“Barely.” Hunter set the phone on the coffee table as if it might explode. “His body is destroying itself, but he’s still breathing. He and the cartel have Sophie and the others.”
“What does he want?”
“They want you to contaminate every item for the festival with the new formula for his drug.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. Her brain rejected them, tried to rearrange them into something less horrific. “Contaminate...”
“Everything. Every cookie, every pastry, every gingerbread house.” Hunter’s voice was unnervingly steady.
“One dose creates instant addiction. Permanent dependency. Once someone’s hooked, they need the drug to shift safely.
Miss a dose, the transformation starts to fail.
Miss two...” He gestured toward the phone and Brennan’s ruined face.
“The whole community.” The scope of it crashed over her. “Children. Pregnant women. Everyone.”
“The cartel would own them all. A captive market that needs their product to survive.”
Brie’s mind raced. “But if I don’t...” She looked at the phone again, at Sophie’s terrified eyes.
“They’ll kill them. Sophie first. Slowly. While the others watch.”
The room spun. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to think through the impossible equation. “Can’t we tell someone? The police? The feds?”
“The cartel is watching us.” Hunter’s jaw clenched. “The hint of the feds returning would trigger the executions.”
“So, I’m trapped.” The words tasted like ash. “My bakery becomes a weapon.”
“The delivery comes tomorrow morning. Back door. It’ll look like any other supplier shipment.”
Brie stood abruptly, needing to move. She paced to the window and stared out at Fate Mountain Village sleeping peacefully. Streetlights created pools of yellow against the darkness.
“I can’t.” The words escaped as a broken whisper. “I can’t poison children. I can’t destroy our entire community.”
“You won’t.” Hunter turned her to face him, his hands firm on her shoulders.
“Listen to me. We’re going to pretend to play along with their demands.
You’re going to mix that poison into small batches of pastries because they’re watching every move we make.
But those contaminated goods will never reach the festival. ”
“What about Sophie?”
“I have almost a week to figure out how to save Sophie and the others. I swear to you, no one at that festival will eat a single poisoned crumb.”
The next morning, she walked into the bakery feeling like she was walking into a tomb. She went through her routine mechanically. Turning on ovens. Starting the first batch of bread. Each normal action felt like a lie.
Jake arrived for his shift. “Morning, boss! Any word from Sophie?”
The lie came automatically. “She finally texted. She’s really sick.”
“That sucks.”
She watched him work, humming as he rolled dough for croissants, completely unaware that in a few hours this kitchen would become a poisoning facility. Her hands shook as she measured flour.
At exactly six AM, a knock echoed from the back door.
Brie’s entire body went cold. Hunter appeared from the front, his expression granite. They walked to the door together, and she made herself turn the handle.
A man in unmarked coveralls stood beside a plain white van. He didn’t speak, didn’t make eye contact, just wheeled in three boxes on a dolly. He set them in the storage area and left without a word, the entire interaction taking less than thirty seconds.
Brie waited until the van disappeared before opening the first box.
Inside, nestled in foam like precious cargo, were dozens of vials filled with clear liquid.
The second box contained printed instructions.
Her knees buckled. The floor rushed up to meet her, but Hunter caught her and held her close.