22. Whitney
WHITNEY
The drive feels endless.
I sit in the passenger seat of Quake's truck, staring into the darkness beyond the window as the convoy of Harleys cuts through the night. Trick and Romeo are in the back, monitoring Romeo’s laptop… for what, I have no clue.
Headlights illuminate stretches of lonely road before they're swallowed by shadows again. Nobody talks much because there isn't anything left to say. Either Melissa is at the cabin or she isn't, and every mile that passes tightens the knot already wrapped around my stomach.
In the driver’s seat, Quake is unnaturally quiet and calm. I’ve learned enough about him to know that’s not a good thing.
Most people get louder when they're angry. Quake gets quieter. The calm exterior he presents to the world is nothing more than a silent siren before the tornado hits. His eyes remain fixed ahead, his jaw clenched tightly enough to make me worry.
Without thinking, I reach across the seat and slip my hand into his. His attention immediately shifts toward me, and his fingers tighten around mine. The gesture isn't romantic. It's survival.
When we finally turn onto a narrow dirt road, the atmosphere inside the truck changes immediately. Every person becomes alert, focused, ready. The road winds through dense forest, branches scraping against the vehicle as we make our way deeper into the woods.
Eventually, a glow appears through the trees, and Quake cuts his lights and slams on the brakes. Each motorcycle engine dies as they come to stop behind the truck. Hopefully, Carrie doesn’t hear our approach, but we have to be quick, just in case.
Nobody speaks as they all gear up. Some carry guns, others carry knives, and the rest will rely on their fists. As for me, I carry all the love in my heart.
Lyric quickly issues quiet instructions, and then he and Zombie disappear around the sides of the cabin while others fan out through the surrounding woods. Quake and I stride right up the front steps.
The operation unfolds with frightening efficiency.
Prior to leaving the clubhouse, we discussed our approach and decided that we’d try simply knocking. I know it isn’t what the guys want to do, but it reduces the risk to Melissa.
Before he lifts his hand to the door, Quake glances down at me. “You should really go to the truck.”
“Not happening.”
“Whitney,” he urges.
I pound on the door, taking the option out of the equation.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You stay behind me, got it?”
“Understood.”
We stand there for what feels like forever, and I start to worry about my whole ‘knocking is safer’ approach. No doubt fearing the worst, Quake lifts his leg and kicks the door open.
“Entrance breached,” he says into his coms.
The cabin smells stale and dusty, like nobody has truly lived there in years. Every step makes my stomach churn harder.
For one terrible moment, I think we're too late, but then I hear something that nearly sends me to my knees.
"Whitney?"
I scan the barely lit room. "Melissa?”
A pounding reaches my ears, and I lunge past Quake and down the hall toward the sound.
"Whitney!" Melissa screams from beyond a closed door, fear radiating through her voice.
I don't think, only act. Shoving the door open, I burst inside and see Melissa sitting on the bed. She’s pale, exhausted, and terrified, but she’s alive.
Dear God, she’s alive.
The little girl launches herself at me so hard we nearly both end up on the floor. I gather her into my arms immediately, holding her as tightly as I can. I need to feel her. I need to know she's real.
For several long seconds neither of us can speak. We simply cling to each other. I feel Quake behind me, tapping my shoulder, but I make no move to let go.
"You're okay," I whisper.
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
"I thought you weren't coming."
The words destroy what little composure I have left. I pull back just enough to look at her. "Sweetheart, I was always coming."
She starts crying harder, and so do I. And Quake’s tapping becomes more insistent.
“Stand up, Whitney,” he orders, his tone deathly calm.
I open my mouth to argue, not wanting to let Melissa go, but a voice cuts through the room, startling me.
"You shouldn't have come."
Every ounce of relief vanishes as I stand, shoving Melissa behind me, between me and Quake. Then I focus on the woman standing against the far wall, a gun trained on us.
Carrie barely resembles the woman who used to visit Sacred Haven. Her hair is tangled, her clothes wrinkled, and dark circles shadow her eyes. Yet none of that is what unsettles me most.
It's her expression, the way her eyes tell me she believes we’ve done something terribly wrong by showing up here.
"Carrie,” I say calmly. “Put the gun down.”
Her gaze shifts toward Melissa. "They don't understand. I’m saving you.”
"You kidnapped her,” Quake bites out, his own gun aimed across the room, just in case.
The accusation visibly offends her, and she scoffs. "I rescued her."
Melissa steps out from behind me, brazen as can be. "You didn't rescue me."
Damn, I’m proud of her.
And scared for her.
Melissa’s words surprise everyone, including Carrie. She flinches as if the girl had slapped her across the face.
“You don’t understand, Melissa. I rescued you because they were going to destroy everything.”
Her words make no sense with what we already know, and I’m desperate to understand.
“Carrie, what do you think you were saving her from? Me, Quake, what?”
Frantically, she shakes her head, and the hand holding the gun swings wildly. “No. No, dammit. I was rescuing her from the system.”
“You are the fucking system,” Quake snarls.
“I was fixing the system, one kid at a time,” she snaps back. “I know what it does to kids, to families, what it did to me! It breaks them, chews them up and spits them out. But I was fixing it.”
“And Keith and Tom,” I say. “What were they doing?”
Her face pales. “They told me they were sending the kids to good homes. They made sure they had parents who loved them.”
“No, they sold them, raped them, and fuck knows what else,” Quake counters. “You were just a pawn, a store where they could shop.”
For the first time, Carrie's certainty begins to crack.
"They’re gone now,” she says. “So I can do things right. I’m going to do things right with Melissa.”
I can’t tell if she’s delusional or playing the long game. Either way, this ends now.
“You aren’t coming within a hundred feet of her,” I snarl, marching forward, danger be damned. “If you do, I will end you, do you hear me?”
“But I’m going to fix it, I promise,” she cries, lifting her gun and pointing it at my face. “You’re in the way, Sister. So, I’m sorry, but I can’t have that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fully convinced she’s going to kill me, but when a gun fires, I feel no pain.
Carrie, however, screams as her gun falls to the floor. I glance over my shoulder at Quake, and he shrugs.
“What? I said I wouldn’t kill her, and I didn’t.”
“He didn’t,” Melissa says, trying to help.
“You shot me!” Carrie screams, clutching her arm.
“See, alive,” Quake says.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I mutter.
“Maybe, but not tonight, right?”
“Go call the police like you promised,” I order.
Before he does, he pulls a length of rope from his pocket and ties it around Carrie’s wrists. Melissa watches with fascination, and I resign myself to the fact that I can’t always get what I want.
But I got what I need.
Quake and I lead Melissa outside after calling the police, and we wait on the rickety porch. The others join us, each of them taking turns hugging the child.
“You should’ve seen her,” Zombie tells Romeo. “She walked straight toward the barrel of Carrie’s gun. If Lucy had done that, I’d spank the shit out of her, but Quake just stood there.”
“I didn’t just stand there,” Quake protests.
“Whitney had it handled,” Melissa says quietly. “Quake knew that.”
Everyone laughs, and the events of the night start to feel a little less terrible.
Twenty minutes later, the police arrive. They take statements, try to sort out the order of events. I don’t know anything about police investigations, my only other interaction with the law being when Ryan died, but things wrap up quicker than I anticipate, and we all are released from the scene.
Not before Carrie is placed in the back of a squad car, though. She doesn’t resist or yell or even speak. No more excuses and justifications, no more certainty that she was doing the right thing. She just looks… lost.
Lord, please get her the help she needs.
When the door closes, shutting her away from our view, I turn to Quake. The anger is still there. I can see it lingering beneath the surface. But then he kneels beside Melissa, and all she sees is the man who came for her.
The man who never stopped searching.
His hand settles gently on her shoulder.
"You ready to go home, sweetheart?"
Melissa looks at him, then me, then back again, a smile appearing on her sweet face. “Yeah.”Then at me.
I pull her into another hug. A moment later, Quake rises and wraps his arms around both of us, and everything inside me finally settles.
She's safe.
She's loved.
And she's coming home.