Chapter 11
Emmett
The bed is cold.
That’s the first thing I register when I wake up.
The second thing? Raine is gone.
My body snaps upright before my mind catches up. The room is still dark, but there’s an edge of light bleeding in through the curtains, signaling dawn. I scan the space instinctively, my gut tightening. The sheets are rumpled where she should be, but she isn’t here.
And then it hits me.
Her voice—sharp, broken—echoes in my skull. "Leverage?"
I exhale through my nose, shoving a hand through my hair. She heard me.
She stood right there, eyes blazing, every inch of her screaming betrayal as she spat the words back at me. She gave me a chance to explain, and I fucking froze. I hesitated for a second too long, and that was all it took for her to run.
I thought she needed space. That she’d cool off. That I’d be able to fix it.
Except she hasn’t come back.
My stomach knots. Something is wrong.
I shove out of bed, my pulse hammering as I grab my gun from the nightstand. "Raine?"
Nothing.
I stride toward the front door, yanking it open, stepping onto the porch. The morning air is sharp, the remnants of last night’s storm leaving the ground damp and the sky bruised with fading clouds.
Still no sign of her.
Think, Calloway.
I step off the porch, scanning the perimeter. Look for signs. A footprint, a trail. Anything.
Then I see it.
A patch of disturbed dirt near the tree line. The scuff of a boot against the mud.
And something else—a small, broken piece of plastic. A phone.
My chest tightens as I crouch down, picking it up. It’s hers.
A crack runs through the screen, as if it was stomped underfoot. My grip tightens around it, rage crawling under my skin like wildfire.
She didn’t just leave. Someone took her.
I storm back inside, my blood running hot, the walls of the safe house suddenly too fucking small. My hands are fists as I shove over the table, sending it crashing into the wall. The chair follows, wood splintering against the impact.
She was here. She was fucking here. And now she’s not.
I pivot, grabbing my phone, dialing the one person who might have answers.
Vince picks up after two rings. "Calloway. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon."
"Where is she?"
A beat of silence. "Who?"
I grab the nearest glass and hurl it against the wall. It shatters, pieces scattering across the floor. "Don’t fucking play with me, Vince. Raine is gone."
He exhales sharply. "Shit."
"Yeah. Shit. Now tell me what you know."
There’s rustling on his end, like he’s moving, and then he mutters something under his breath. "You’re not gonna like it."
"Try me."
"Dante has her."
Everything inside me goes still.
"Say that again," I growl.
"Dante. Moreau. Took. Her." Vince enunciates each word like he knows I’m two seconds from losing my fucking mind. "My sources confirmed it an hour ago."
I press my fingers against my temple, trying to think through the rage clouding my vision. "How?"
"I don’t know the details, but my guess? She ran right into them."
I squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw clenching. Fuck.
Vince hesitates before adding, "Calloway, you know what this means. If Dante has her, you’re already too late."
I grab my keys, my gun, everything I need. "The fuck I am."
Then I hang up, because talking isn’t going to save her.
I am.
The tires screech as I take a turn too fast, gravel spitting under the weight of the car. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, my pulse a constant drum in my ears. I have no fucking plan—I just know I have to move, to do something, anything before I lose her completely.
I hit the call button on my dashboard and dial Ryan.
He picks up on the third ring. "I was wondering when you’d call."
"I need a favor."
A beat of silence, then a low exhale. "Let me guess. This has something to do with Moreau?"
"He has her."
Ryan mutters a curse under his breath. "Jesus, Emmett. How the hell did you get tangled up in this?"
"Doesn’t matter. Are you going to help me or not?"
Another pause. "You’re a wanted man, Em. There’s a federal task force building a case against Moreau, and your name is all over it. If I stick my neck out—"
"Then stick your fucking neck out."
Ryan sighs heavily. "Where are you now?"
"Driving. Trying to track down my next lead."
"Emmett… you don’t even know where she is, do you?"
"Not yet."
"That’s a death wish."
"Then help me fix it."
Another pause. Then, "I’ll see what I can dig up. But don’t do anything reckless before I get back to you."
I hang up without answering, because we both know I’m not waiting.
Next stop: Vince.
I roll up to the location he texted me—an old auto shop on the south side of the city.
The kind of place where bodies disappear as fast as stolen cars.
The second I step inside, the scent of oil and metal fills my lungs.
Vince is leaning against a workbench, flicking a knife open and closed like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
"Calloway," he greets. "Back so soon?"
I don’t bother with pleasantries. I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall. "You set me up?"
He grins, unfazed. "If I had, you’d be dead."
I tighten my grip. "Then tell me how the fuck Moreau got to her so fast."
Vince’s smirk falters, just slightly. "I told you, Dante has eyes everywhere. But if you think I sold you out, you’re wasting your energy."
I let go, but not before shoving him back roughly. "Then give me something useful."
Vince straightens his jacket, looking me over like he’s debating whether to help me or not. Finally, he sighs. "Word is Dante’s got a new safehouse downtown. Could be where he’s keeping her."
It’s all I need to hear.
I turn to leave, but Vince’s voice stops me. "Calloway—watch your back. If this is a trap, you won’t get a second shot."
I don’t answer. I just walk out, my mind already spinning.
If it’s a trap, I’ll walk into it.
Because Raine is on the other side.
I barely make it two blocks before headlights cut across the road ahead of me, a sleek black car skidding to a stop, blocking my path. My foot slams on the brake just in time, my grip tightening around my gun instinctively.
The door swings open, and Theo steps out, looking impossibly calm, like he didn’t just nearly get himself run over.
"Going somewhere, Calloway?" His voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it. He knows.
I exhale sharply, throwing the car into park before stepping out. "Get the fuck out of my way, Theo."
"Can’t do that." He crosses his arms. "I heard about Raine."
I clench my jaw. "Then you know I don’t have time for this."
"That’s exactly why we need to talk."
I glare at him, but he doesn’t back down. Fucker always knew how to play his cards.
"Fine," I bite out. "Make it fast."
Theo nods toward my car. "Not here. We need to go somewhere more secure."
I know where he means before he even says it. My bar.
The moment we step inside, I know I made the right call. Vince is already here, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand. Ryan sits at a booth in the back, looking as out of place in this world as ever. And then—
"Took you long enough."
I turn, and my stomach knots. Asher.
He’s standing near the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The last person I expected to walk into this mess.
"You shouldn’t be here," I mutter.
"You sure this is worth the risk?" he asks, voice measured but laced with something else—concern, maybe.
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. "We don’t have time for a reunion. We need a plan."
Theo nods. "We have one. But you’re not going in blind, Calloway. If we do this, we do it smart."
Ryan clears his throat, shifting forward in his seat. "I pulled what I could from the precinct. Moreau’s movements have been off lately. If he’s keeping her, it’s not at any of his usual properties. He’s hiding her somewhere different."
Vince swirls his drink, looking bored. "Safehouse downtown. That’s the best lead we’ve got."
Asher’s eyes narrow. "It’s a setup."
"Doesn’t matter," I say. "I’m going."
"Not alone," Theo cuts in. "Dante isn’t just holding Raine—he has someone else."
My blood runs cold. "Who?"
Ryan exhales sharply. "We don’t have a name. But we know there was another woman under his control before Raine escaped. If she mattered to Raine, she matters to him."
Dread slams into my gut. Mia.
I grip the edge of the bar, my pulse hammering. "Dante already knows who she is to Raine. He’s had them both before. He’ll use her."
I don’t need him to finish the sentence.
I slam my fist against the bar, making the bottles rattle. "Then we go now."
Asher steps forward. "We don’t go anywhere until we have a plan. Dante’s expecting you. If we’re going in, we need to hit him from every angle. No mistakes."
For the first time since this nightmare started, I take a deep breath and exhale.
It’s not just me anymore.
This is war.
And we’re going to win.