Chapter 46 #2
“It’s still too damn long,” I mutter anyway, because logic doesn’t stop the images clawing their way into my head.
If logic were in the room right now, I’d know better than to bitch about hours when Jonathan had to mourn Helen for years.
But all I can see is Lily—wide-eyed, terrified, fighting back while someone drags her farther and farther away from me.
Jonathan doesn’t point out the elephant in the room; he just holds my gaze, jaw clenched tight, lips pursed as understanding flashes behind his eyes.
“But not too late,” he says. “Not even close.”
A ringing starts in my ears, low at first, then swelling, drowning out the room. My vision tunnels in and out around the edges. My hands won’t stop shaking.
“Matt.” Jonathan’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, grounding me, but barely. “Look at me.”
I can’t. My pulse is a violent, punishing thing and my knees threaten to give.
“She might’ve slipped the shoe off on purpose,” Liam says quietly. “Left us something. She’s a fighter. You know that better than anyone.”
A sound tears out of me—half breath, half something animal.
“She shouldn’t have to be,” I choke, dropping to a crouch as I clutch the heel to my chest for one fleeting second. “I should’ve—fuck—I should’ve never let her out of my sight.”
Jonathan crouches in front of me, forcing eye contact. His voice drops, firm and unyielding. “This isn’t on you. And you won’t save her by breaking apart. We are going to find her.”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Because there is no world where we don’t.”
The conviction hits something hollow inside me.
But it’s not enough when all I can see is Lily in the dark.
Lily with no shoes.
Lily terrified.
Lily alone.
I suck in a jagged breath, then another, pushing the world back into focus.
Liam clears his throat. “We need to think like them. If they moved her fast, if they needed somewhere quiet, somewhere they know, somewhere off-grid—”
There’s a heavy beat of silence as we try to follow his train of thought.
“The old mental facility in Liverpool,” Owen fills in, voice low. “Where they took Cora, it’s a reach, but if this is all tied to the same monster—”
“It’s not a reach. It’s perfect. Why the hell didn’t we think about that before?” My voice slices the air, cutting him off before he can finish. I push to my feet too fast, the world spinning for a second as blood rushes to my ears. “If they’ve used it before, they’ll use it again.”
Jonathan steps toward me. “Matt—”
“We’re wasting time.” I shove past him, momentum burning through me. “Get the others to meet us there. Tell them to bring all the guns and manpower they can. We’re going now.”
“You need to slow down,” he says, following. “Think strategically—”
“I’m not slowing down.” I whirl on him, fury and terror twisting so tight I can’t separate them. “It’s a four-hour drive and every minute we stand here is another minute she’s scared or hurt or—”
My throat locks up. A brutal, suffocating clamp.
“I’m not losing her again,” I choke, breath stuttering. “I can’t.” My chest burns with the mere idea of it. “I’m not like you, I won’t survive that. A life without her isn’t one I can live through.”
Jonathan’s expression softens for a fraction of a second—pity, sympathy, and something that makes my skin crawl. I don’t need gentle. I need momentum. Blood. Answers. Action.
Liam clears his throat, stepping in before the moment can crack me open any further. “I’ll ring Aidan,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “Get him to pass it on to Ciaran and Brennan. Tell them to head for Liverpool.”
His eyes meet mine, steady and certain. No pity, just intent and a silent promise to do whatever it takes.
“We’ll find her, Matt.”
I nod, barely hearing him over the roar of my pulse. My hands won’t stop shaking and my mind won’t stop racing.
But I put one foot in front of the other and move.
Because four hours or forty, nothing is stopping me from getting to her.
We pile into the SUV. Doors slam, the engine roars to life. Someone—Liam, maybe Jonathan—starts talking about tactics, layout maps, entry routes, how we’ll sweep the facility without alerting whoever’s inside.
But it’s all static, meaningless white noise.
All I hear is Lily.
Her laugh.
The way my name sounds on her lips.
Every torturous little moan and gasp I’ve ever dragged out of her.
My chest caves in at the mere thought of never hearing them again, of her voice going silent because I wasn’t there to protect her. The pressure is so sharp it feels like a fist closing around my ribs, squeezing until I can barely drag in a breath.
I drag a shaking hand over my mouth, pressing hard enough to leave an indent of my ring on my cheek. My vision blurs, then sharpens, snapping between memories and the pitch-black motorway speeding beneath us.
Just hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming.
I lean forward, forearms braced on my knees, staring at the dark windshield like I can will the SUV faster. The engine growls, tyres humming against the asphalt, streetlights streaking across the glass like frantic heartbeats.
Four hours.
Four hours while she’s somewhere in the dark, scared and alone.
Four hours where any second could be the second I am too late.
My hands curl into fists so tight my nails bite my palms.
“Matt,” Jonathan says from the front, low, cautious, like he’s afraid I’ll break in half. “Try to breathe.”
I don’t answer.
Because breathing feels impossible when the only thing I can picture is Lily bound, terrified, calling for me in a place where no one can hear her.
Except maybe the monsters who took her.
And if they lay a hand on her—if they even breathe wrong in her direction—I will burn Liverpool to the fucking ground.
“Just hold on,” I whisper again, barely audible over the engine. “I’m coming, sweetheart. I swear I’m coming.”
The city lights fade behind us.
The darkness ahead swallows the road whole.
And I cling to the sound of her voice in my head, because if I lose that, I lose everything.