Chapter 29 Rylie
Rylie
Ididn’t cry.
Not because I wasn’t scared—but because I needed my mind clear. Crying would make me a blithering idiot, and I couldn’t afford for my brain to go there.
The room smelled faintly of bleach and damp concrete. Somewhere above me, water dripped steadily, each drop echoing too loud in the silence. The restraints around my wrists were tight but not cruel, plastic biting just enough to remind me they were there.
I cataloged everything.
Chair bolted to the floor.
One door. Metal. No window.
Lights overhead—fluorescent, humming softly.
No visible cameras, but that didn’t mean anything.
The man who’d spoken earlier hadn’t come back.
That worried me more than if he had.
They wanted me waiting. Wondering.
I shifted slightly, testing the restraints—not to escape, just to understand them. Flexibility. Give. A little slack on the right side. Not enough yet.
Good.
Fear pressed at the edges of my thoughts, cold and insistent, but I kept it where it belonged—acknowledged, not obeyed.
Trigger had taught me that without meaning to.
Survive first.
The door opened without warning.
Two men entered—different from the ones who grabbed me. Older. Quieter. One carried a folder.
The first man spoke. “You comfortable?”
I lifted my chin. “You kidnapped me. Comfort wasn’t part of the deal.”
He smiled thinly. “Still sharp. That’s good.”
The second man set the folder on a small metal table I hadn’t noticed before. Inside were photographs.
Of me.
At the tavern.
Walking with Trigger.
Laughing—God, laughing.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t look away.
“You’ve become expensive,” the first man said calmly. “Your former fiancé caused us problems. His arrest cost us money. Influence. Time.”
“So you kidnapped me,” I said flatly. “That seems inefficient.”
He chuckled. “You Rangers teach confidence well.”
“I’m not a Ranger.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re leverage.”
There it was.
I leaned back in the chair, forcing my breathing steady. “You won’t get what you want.”
The man tilted his head. “We already have.”
He gestured to the photos.
“Trigger Jennings is very motivated,” he continued. “Men like him don’t negotiate well.”
“That’s because he doesn’t,” I said quietly.
That earned me a dirty look.
“You think he’ll save you,” the second man said.
“I know he will.”
Silence stretched.
The first man smiled again—but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you’ll be very useful to us.”
They left me alone again.
The door shut with a final, hollow clang.
My hands trembled now—but I let them.
I breathed through it. Counted heartbeats. Let the fear crest and pass instead of drowning me.
Trigger will come.
And until he did, I would remember everything.
The sound of footsteps.
The rhythm of guards.
The smallest mistake they made.
They thought taking me would control him.
They were wrong.
Because they’d forgotten something important.
I wasn’t the woman Thomas tried to break anymore.
I was the woman who survived him.
And I would survive this too.
Didn’t they realize they kidnapped a District Attorney?