Chapter 20
Kane
I stormed into Sutton’s office, every muscle in my body coiled tight with barely contained panic. “We don’t have time for this.”
“We do, actually.” Sutton’s voice was infuriatingly calm. He sat behind his desk like this was any other ordinary day, like Charlotte wasn’t out there somewhere, terrified and alone. “Calloway’s at a charity gala right now. He won’t be back at his residence for at least two hours.”
“Great. So he’s sipping champagne while Charlotte—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The possibilities were too horrific to voice.
“Think this through,” Sutton said steadily. “Calloway likes control, and if Charlotte’s been taken, it’s because he intends to use her for something first. That means she’s alive .”
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Sutton was right, and that made it worse. Because if Charlotte was still alive, it meant Calloway had plans for her. Plans that made a quick death seem merciful by comparison.
“Then what are we waiting for?” The words came out raw, scraped from somewhere deep in my chest. “Let’s go get her.”
“The police won’t help us. We can’t get a warrant without proof he took her—proof we don’t have,” Sutton said, far more reasonably than I was feeling.
“Then fuck the law,” I said, jamming my hands on my hips, my entire body vibrating with adrenaline and the need to do something before I lost my fucking mind. “I’m doing whatever it takes to get Charlotte back.”
“You can do that.” Sutton leaned back in his chair. “I’m not going to stop you, but we need to be prepared for the fallout—you especially.”
“Because of my history with the department? Because they already think I’m—”
“Because of your brother,” he said.
That caught me up short and I went still. Had something happened to Kohen? Had I put him in harm’s way with my request and Calloway had gotten to him, too?
This morning’s call played back in my mind now…
Kohen had listened to me. He’d asked questions—of course he had. What else do you do when your estranged brother calls to tell you he’s protecting a journalist from a prominent businessman who also happens to be a sex trafficker? It sounded like something from a movie, not real life.
But he’d taken my request seriously. “ I’ll see what I can do,” he’d said, and there was something in his voice—eagerness, maybe, or relief. Like he’d been waiting for this chance to prove he could help.
Had he stumbled onto something? Found information that put him in danger?
Fuck.
Sutton pressed a button on his desk, pulling me back to the present. “Brooke, send Tate in, please.”
The door opened and Tate entered, his expression grim in a way that made my stomach drop. He glanced at Sutton—an unspoken exchange passing between them—before turning to face me.
“I tracked how they found the safehouse,” he said. “It was the call you made on your personal cell. Your location was traced through the recipient’s device, which I gained access to.”
“Kohen’s phone?” I frowned in confusion, not following. “What do you mean?”
Tate shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable. “Kane, there’s no easy way to say this. I hacked into Kohen’s phone records after that call and tracked his location through GPS.”
“And?”
“The moment he got your call this morning, he left work.” Tate’s voice was flat, clinical—the way people delivered news they knew would devastate you.
“His coordinates put him at the safehouse for approximately thirty minutes. Then he drove directly to a high-rise owned by Vincent Calloway. The building where Calloway lives.”
The words didn’t make sense. I heard them, but they refused to arrange themselves into meaning.
“Kohen was at the safehouse,” I repeated slowly.
Tate nodded, his jaw tight. “He’s the one who took her, Kane. He kidnapped Charlotte and delivered her to Calloway.”
My blood turned to ice. “That can’t be right.” The response was reflexive, automatic. “My brother wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t—”
But even as the denial left my mouth, doubt crept in like poison. Cold. Insidious. Impossible to ignore.
Sutton leaned forward, his own expression heavy. “I had Tate dig deeper into Kohen. I wanted to be absolutely certain before we brought this to you.”
“His financials,” Tate said quietly. “He’s been receiving regular, substantial payments from a shell company that connects to Calloway’s clubs, Kane.
We’re talking a total of over half a million dollars.
” He paused. “The deposits started two years ago. And the dates of the older ones... they line up exactly with when the money and drugs were taken from the evidence locker. Every single time.”
The room tilted and my chest tightened.
“Just because the evidence points at him doesn’t mean he actually did anything.” I heard myself speaking, but the words felt hollow. Desperate. “What if he’s being set up like I was?”
Tate’s jaw tightened with barely contained frustration, but Sutton raised a hand before he could respond.
“This is substantial evidence, Kane.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Far more than there ever was against you .”
The pieces were falling into place with horrible clarity, and I couldn’t unsee the pattern now that it had been laid bare. Kohen had always resented living in my shadow. I’d thought his distance was just sibling rivalry. Normal stuff. The kind of tension that would ease with time.
But it hadn’t eased. It had festered .
As a cop, Kohen had access to the evidence locker and enough knowledge of department procedures to manipulate the chain of custody. He could have forged the signatures and planted the trail of breadcrumbs that led straight to me.
And the money Tate uncovered made it even worse. Deposits funneled through shell companies tied back to Calloway’s network. The kind of money that didn’t match a cop’s salary—not even close. Not a one-time payoff. Ongoing compensation along with the cash stolen from the evidence locker.
Which meant Kohen probably hadn’t been acting alone. No way one patrol officer could pull off a frame job that clean without help. Evidence didn’t just disappear without questions being asked. Internal investigations didn’t close that quickly unless someone higher up was steering the narrative.
Other people in the department had to be involved. Maybe officers. Maybe supervisors. Men willing to look the other way for the right price while Kohen fed them exactly what they needed to bury me.
And suddenly every part of the investigation made horrible sense. Why no one had questioned the inconsistencies. Why the case against me had escalated so quickly, then never went to trial. Why I’d felt railroaded from the beginning.
It had never been one bitter brother acting alone. It had been a coordinated setup. I’d lost everything. My career. My reputation. My sense of who I was. And Kohen had watched it happen. Had orchestrated my downfall.
He didn’t just want to be better than me. He wanted to destroy me.
And he was also working for Calloway. Taking money. Following orders. Feeding him intel from the inside. Kidnapping innocent women and delivering them to a monster.
My brother was corrupt and had been for who knew how long.
I’d spent two years wondering who had framed me. Two years searching for answers, of replaying every interaction, every friendship, looking for the betrayal I must have missed.
And it was Kohen. All along, it was my own fucking brother.
The devastation was like a hollow ache in my chest that threatened to crack me open. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about loyalty meaning something... all of it was a lie.
But I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not when Charlotte was still out there, trapped in Calloway’s penthouse. I forced myself to breathe. To focus. To be the cop I used to be—the one who could compartmentalize, who could shove the personal shit aside and do the job.
“We can deal with Kohen later,” I said, and my voice came out steadier than I expected considering everything I’d just learned. “Right now, Charlotte is my priority.” I looked at Sutton, then Tate. “Please tell me you have something. A way in. A plan.”
Tate nodded slowly. “Considering Calloway’s high-rise is where Kohen drove to, we’re ninety-nine percent certain that’s where she is. Top floor. The penthouse.”
“Then I’m going to get her.”
The words came out hard. Final. A declaration of war.
I didn’t care what it took. I’d storm that building alone if I had to. Fight through every bodyguard Calloway had. And if it meant sacrificing my own freedom—my own life—to get Charlotte out safely, then that was a trade I’d make without hesitation.
She was worth it. She was worth everything .
“You’ll be breaking multiple laws,” Sutton said, his tone measured. “Trespassing. Breaking and entering. Assault, at minimum. The legal fallout will be massive.”
A cold, focused fury rose up in my chest. “Then you’d better get Noble and Associates’ best lawyers on standby.”
Sutton studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Just making sure you understand the stakes.”
I understood them perfectly. And I didn’t give a fuck.
Whatever happened to me legally was worth it. Prison. Fines. A permanent record that would follow me for the rest of my life. None of it mattered as long as Charlotte was alive at the end of this.
“Obviously,” Sutton said, his tone deliberately vague as he met and held my gaze, “I can’t condone my employees breaking the law, even in the course of their duties. But if certain individuals were to take actions I wasn’t aware of... well. I can hardly stop what I don’t know is happening.”
Tate stepped forward, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “In that case, why don’t we grab some lunch?” His voice was light, but his grip was firm. “See you later, Sutton.”
Sutton nodded, approval etched into every line of his face.
I followed Tate out of the office, my mind already racing through tactical considerations. Entry points. Security systems. How many guards Calloway might have. The fastest route to the penthouse.
When we reached the lobby, three men were waiting.
Chase. Ford. Austin.
They stood in a loose formation near the elevator, postures tense, eyes sharp, clearly prepared to have my back no matter how ugly this was about to get.
“Oh, hell no.” I stopped short, shaking my head. “Whatever Tate told you—”
“We heard you might need backup,” Chase interrupted, and I didn’t miss the quiet authority in his tone. No room for argument.
“I’m probably going to get arrested for this.” I spread my hands, trying to make them understand. “I can’t ask you to—”
“Good thing you’re not asking.” Ford crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re volunteering.”
“And we don’t let our own walk into a firefight alone,” Austin added.
One of our own.
I looked between these men I’d kept at arm’s length for two years.
I’d dodged their invitations, made excuses to skip drinks after work, maintained careful distance at every turn.
Getting close to people meant giving them the power to hurt you.
I’d learned that lesson the hard way when my own brother had destroyed my life.
And yet here they stood. Ready to risk their careers, maybe their lives—for me. For a woman most of them had only met once.
For a second, I couldn’t speak, because this camaraderie was what I’d spent two years denying myself. Loyalty without conditions. People showing up anyway, even after I’d pushed them away over and over again.
And the truth hit harder than I wanted it to. I was terrified of losing Charlotte, but I was even more afraid of failing her because I’d let my own isolation make me stupid. I couldn’t do this alone. Not against a man like Calloway.
Charlotte was out there somewhere counting on me to bring her home alive, and my pride suddenly felt a hell of a lot less important than making sure that happened.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice rough. The words felt inadequate, but they were all I had.
Chase’s mouth curved into a grim smile. “Save it for after we get your girl back.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Now let’s go handle this son of a bitch.”
We moved toward the exit as one unit—five men walking with purpose and the kind of focused determination that came from knowing exactly what was at stake.
I wasn’t just fighting to save Charlotte anymore. I was fighting for our future and the rest of our lives together.