Chapter 42 Finn
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Finn
I can’t breathe right.
It’s not panic the way people think it is. No shaking hands, no dramatic collapse. It’s quieter than that. Worse, maybe. My lungs forgot how to finish the job. Every inhale cuts off too soon. Every exhale leaves something behind.
So I keep moving, because if I stop, I’m going to feel all of it.
The Hollow is too small for this version of me. Too contained. Too full of everything I can’t fix by pacing holes into the floor.
Zane’s at the table, working through angles, routes, maps so we can get to that place without another ambush. He was built for this kind of focus.
Ryder’s on his phone, calling in people we walked away from when we decided this town was going to be different.
Funny how fast that line disappeared.
And me?
I move.
Back and forth.
Every time I slow down, my brain tries to fill the space.
Aurora laughing at something stupid I said.
Aurora in the alley.
Aurora…
No.
I shove it down and keep going.
“Finn.”
Zane’s voice.
I don’t stop.
“Finn.”
I turn on him this time, sharper than I mean to be. “What?”
He doesn’t flinch.
“Stand still for five seconds. Or do something useful.”
I drag a hand over my face, breathing rough. “I am doing something useful. I’m—”
“You’re burning energy,” he cuts in. “We need you thinking.”
I hate that he’s right.
Before I can say anything else, Ryder’s phone buzzes in his hand.
The shift in his expression is instant.
“Sending it,” he says. “Fucking hell.”
A second later, Zane’s laptop pings.
We all move at once.
Aurora fills the screen.
Alive.
My chest locks up so hard it hurts.
She’s sitting against a wall, wrists bound behind her, face pale but steady. Too steady. She’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.
“Ryder,” she says.
Her voice hits like a punch to the ribs.
I step closer without realizing it, like I can get nearer to her through the screen if I try hard enough.
“I’m okay,” she continues.
Lie, I can see it, but she says it anyway, because she’s trying to protect us.
Of course she is.
“I’m still here.”
My jaw tightens.
She hesitates.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”
The video cuts. Silence crashes down into the room. No one moves.
Then I exhale, sharp and unsteady. “She’s okay.”
“She’s alive,” Zane corrects.
Ryder’s already moving again. “Track it.”
“I am,” Zane says, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Video metadata’s stripped. Burner device.”
“Of course it is,” I mutter.
Zane doesn’t look up. “But the signal bounced.”
My head snaps toward him. “Where?”
He pulls something up, zooming in. “There’s a ping here. Weak. Routed through a tower on the north side.”
North.
My pulse kicks.
“Keep going,” Ryder says.
Zane nods. “There was a supply stop reported earlier. Short window. Someone saw a truck offloading fuel near the old access road.”
Determination locks into place—a direction, finally.
“A whisper’s been floating around too,” I add, already pulling my phone out. “Same area. Old mountain access road. Not much traffic. Easy to control.”
Zane glances at me. “That fits.”
Ryder’s gaze moves between us, then back to the map.
“North access,” he says. “At the storage units there?”
“Or something close,” Zane replies. “Controlled entry. Limited visibility.”
My hands curl into fists.
She’s there. She has to be.
“We’re done waiting,” I say.
Ryder nods once. “We move.”
I don’t wait for instructions. I’m already heading for the door, keys in hand, the need to move hitting so hard it might split me open if I don’t.
“Finn…” Zane starts.
“I’m taking the bike,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Truck’s safer.”
“I’m faster.”
That ends it.
The engine roars to life under me, loud and alive and something I can actually control, and my breathing almost evens out.
I take off hard.
The road out of town blurs under me, wind tearing past, cold and sharp against my face. I lean into it, pushing faster than I should, faster than is smart, because smart left the building the second that video ended.
Because she said Ryder’s name because she needed him to hear it.
Because she sounded…
No.
Focus.
North access.
The turn comes up fast, barely marked, easy to miss if you don’t know it’s there.
I do.
I hit it without slowing.
The road narrows, trees closing in, shadows stretching longer as the elevation climbs. Gravel spits under the tires as I push harder, the bike fighting me for control and losing.
Good.
Everything should feel this way. On edge. One wrong move from going sideways, because that’s exactly where we are.
The clearing hits suddenly. I see the structures ahead.
Metal rows of storage units.
I slam the brakes.
The tires scream against gravel, the bike fishtailing just enough to jolt my whole body forward before I still it, boots hitting the ground.
Silence drops around me. I kill the engine, and all I hear is my own breathing.
Ryder’s truck pulls in behind me seconds later. Zane’s out before it fully stops, already scanning, already working through angles I don’t have the patience for right now.
We all look at the same thing. The units.
I run a hand over the back of my neck, forcing myself to slow down just enough to think instead of react.
Then I look at them, really look at Ryder, standing there, carved out of control and fury, at Zane, already halfway into a plan, and I realize something. They think they know where I sit in this.
“I know you both think I’m the fun one,” I say suddenly, emotion bursting out of me.
Neither of them interrupts.
Good, because I’m not joking, not now.
“But I swear to you…” My throat tightens, and I force it back, force the words through clean. “If he touched her…”
I don’t finish it.
I don’t need to.
Everything I would do is already there.
Ryder doesn’t hesitate. “He won’t get the chance.”
I hold his gaze.
Then nod.
Swallow the rest of it down as glass, because falling apart isn’t an option, not while she’s in there.