Chapter 47 Thomas
Thomas
Thomas was pouring coffee when the message came through.
Not from her.
From the silence.
He paused mid-pour, the dark liquid cresting the rim before he set the carafe down with deliberate care. Silence was information. More reliable than panic. More honest than rage.
She had contacted him.
She had accepted the location request.
And now—
Nothing.
No follow-up.
No pleading.
No attempt to negotiate terms.
That wasn’t fear.
That was resolve.
Thomas seated himself at the table and unlocked the secondary device, scrolling through the live feed. The signal from her phone pulsed once, faint but present, then stabilized.
She was moving.
Alone.
His mouth curved into a slow smile.
“Smart girl,” he murmured. “You understand pressure.”
One of his men stepped closer. “She didn’t ask for protection. Or money.”
“No,” Thomas agreed. “She asked for control.”
That was unexpected.
Most people who reached out did so because they wanted something.
Rylie Tate had reached out because she intended to take something.
Time. Space. Leverage.
Thomas leaned back in his chair, studying the map as her signal traced a narrow route through forest roads and backways no one used unless they knew exactly where they were going.
“She’s not running,” the man said.
“No,” Thomas replied. “She’s repositioning.”
That pleased him.
It also concerned him.
“Rangers?” the man asked.
“Quiet,” Thomas said. “Too quiet.”
He drummed his fingers once against the table, thinking.
Trigger would be losing his mind by now. Or worse—he’d already forced himself calm. Men like that didn’t lash out first.
They hunted.
Which meant Thomas needed to move before the board fully revealed itself.
“Change the pickup,” Thomas ordered. “Not the original site.”
The man frowned. “But she accepted—”
“She accepted the idea,” Thomas cut in. “Not the trap.”
A pause.
“She’s smarter than the average hostage,” Thomas continued. “And she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.”
The man hesitated. “To Trigger?”
“Yes,” Thomas said softly. “She’s betting that he won’t hesitate to burn everything down to get to her.”
He stood and walked to the window, staring out at the city.
“That kind of devotion,” he added, “is very dangerous.”
For everyone.
The phone buzzed again.
A single message this time.
I’m not afraid of you.
I’m afraid of what you’re doing to people who don’t deserve it.
Thomas stared at the words longer than necessary.
Then he laughed.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
Genuinely amused.
“You think this makes you powerful,” he said aloud. “But all you’ve done is step onto my board.”
He typed his response carefully.
Good.
Then we understand each other.
He sent it.
Outside, traffic flowed. People lived their small, unaware lives. Somewhere in the woods, a woman walked toward danger with her spine straight and her head high.
And somewhere else—
A Ranger was already moving.
Thomas’s smile faded just slightly.
Because for the first time since this began, the variables were no longer fully under his control.
And that?
That made the game far more interesting.