Chapter Eleven #2
The smiling one steps over Jace like he’s nothing. The quieter one blocks the exit, his hand still hovering near the weapon he used, his expression calm, practiced, familiar in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“We’ve been looking for you,” he murmurs.
My blood goes cold. Kade’s warning slams into me like a punch. Because someone is
looking for you.
“How do you know my name?” My voice cracks, barely audible.
The smiling one tilts his head. “You know how we know your name, darling. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Nausea rises up my throat. My hands shake so violently I can’t hide it. I back up a step, but the quieter one moves with me, cutting off the corner, cutting off the air.
Jace tries to push himself up, groaning, reaching for me. “Run,” he breathes.
I can’t.
I can’t move.
My body is frozen in that old familiar way, the way it used to when I was small and trapped and helpless and praying for someone to come.
But no one comes.
Not this time.
The smiling one reaches out, fingers curling like he’s already claimed me. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
The word makes my vision blur.
I stumble back, hit the counter, knock over a stack of prints. My breath shatters. My chest tightens. My pulse screams.
They close in.
The quieter one grabs my arm.
His grip is iron.
His voice is soft. “Don’t fight. It’ll be worse if you fight.”
My knees buckle, my vision tunnels.
The studio dissolves into noise and shadow.
I think of Kade.
Of his silver eyes.
Of the way he said someone was looking for me.
Of the way he promised I was safe.
He’s not here.
He doesn’t know.
He’s miles away.
The smiling one leans close, breath warm against my ear. “Time to come with us.”
And the world goes dark.
I feel the rumble of the engine beneath me, steady and cold, vibrating through whatever surface I’m lying on. Something is over my eyes.
I can’t see.
Darkness presses against my face, thick and suffocating. Panic rises in my throat so fast it burns. I try to move my arms but something holds them still, tight, unyielding, trapping me in a way that makes my lungs seize.
I try to scream.
I try to call out.
I try to force sound past the terror clawing up my chest.
But the words are muffled.
My teeth sink into something soft, fabric or padding or whatever they shoved between my lips to keep me quiet. My breath comes in sharp, frantic bursts. My heart thunders so violently I can feel it in my wrists, in my throat, in the restraints biting into my skin.
I twist my head, desperate for any sense of where I am, who is near me, what they’re doing, but the blindfold blocks everything.
The darkness feels alive, pressing in, swallowing me whole.
My pulse spikes. My stomach lurches. My mind spirals back to every moment I’ve tried to bury, every memory I’ve fought to forget.
A sound slips from my throat, broken and strangled. I try to pull my arms free again, but the restraints don’t budge. The engine growls louder. The vehicle turns sharply. My body shifts with it, helpless, weightless, powerless.
I bite down harder on the gag, trying to ground myself, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart completely. Tears sting my eyes beneath the blindfold. My chest tightens until it hurts. My thoughts scatter like frightened birds.
I don’t know where they’re taking me. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know if I’ll get out.
All I know is that I’m alone.
And the darkness feels endless.
Kade
————————
I’ve been standing outside the warehouse for ten minutes, pacing the gravel like a caged animal.
Something has been wrong all day, sitting under my ribs, twisting every time I try to focus.
I keep checking the perimeter, checking my gear, checking the time, but none of it settles the feeling crawling up my spine.
I’m supposed to be going in soon, supposed to be waiting for Jaxon’s signal, supposed to be calm and ready, but my pulse has been off since this morning, too fast, too tight, like my body knew something I didn’t.
My phone buzzes. Jaxon.
I answer before the first ring finishes. “What.”
I hear him breathing hard. Not the usual pre mission adrenaline. This is different. There’s wind in the background, footsteps, something metallic hitting the ground. My stomach drops. My fingers tighten around the phone until they ache.
“Kade,” he says, and his voice is wrong. Jaxon doesn’t get rattled. He doesn’t shake. He doesn’t sound like this.
My heart starts hammering. “Tell me.”
“They got her.”
The world doesn’t stop.
It doesn’t freeze.
It just tilts, violently, like the ground has been ripped out from under me.
My breath catches.
My throat closes.
I feel the panic hit me so hard my knees almost buckle.
I don’t speak, I can’t, my chest is too tight, my lungs too small, my pulse too loud.
Jaxon keeps talking, words tumbling over each other. “She was at the studio. Two men came in. I tried… Jace tried… Kade, they shot him, he’s down, I don’t know how bad, I don’t know where they took her, I’m trying to track the vehicle but it’s….”
“Where,” I manage, but my voice isn’t steady. It shakes. I hate that it shakes.
“They’re gone. Blacked out vehicle, no plates, no cameras on the street. I’m pulling what I can but…”
I turn away from the warehouse, from the mission, from everything I was supposed to be doing tonight.
My hands are shaking so badly I have to switch the phone to my other hand.
My breath is coming too fast, shallow and sharp, like I can’t get enough air.
My vision blurs at the edges. I feel sick.
I feel like I’m going to tear my own skin off if I don’t move.
“Send me everything,” I say, but the words scrape out of me, strained and tight. “Every angle. Every witness. Every detail. Now.”
“Kade”
“Now,” I snap, louder than I meant to, voice cracking under the pressure building in my chest.
I’m already moving. I don’t remember deciding to.
My body just goes, fueled by panic and instinct and something close to terror.
I sprint across the gravel, nearly slipping, fumbling with my keys because my hands won’t stop shaking.
My breath is ragged. My heart is pounding so violently it hurts.
I can’t stop picturing her calling for me, reaching for me, terrified and alone while I wasn’t there.
I throw myself into the car, slam the door, and the moment the engine turns over I feel something inside me snap.
I reverse too fast, tires screaming against the ground, the sound ripping through the night.
I don’t care. I don’t care about stealth or caution or the mission I just abandoned.
I don’t care about anything except getting home, getting to the studio, getting to wherever she is.
I floor the accelerator. The car lurches forward, fishtailing for a second before gripping the road. My breath shakes with every inhale. My chest feels like it’s collapsing. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything except drive.
The tires screech again as I tear out of the lot, the panic in my body rising with every passing second. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t know if she’s hurt. I don’t know if she’s conscious.
I don’t know if she’s breathing.
All I know is that she’s gone. And I wasn’t there. And I’m already too late.
I push the car harder, the engine roaring as I fly down the road, every part of me shaking, every part of me burning, every part of me focused on one thing.
I take the corner too fast, the tires skidding against the road as I tear through the city.
My pulse hasn’t slowed since Jaxon’s call.
It hasn’t even tried. My hands are shaking on the wheel, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts that do nothing to settle the panic clawing up my throat.
I keep replaying his words, every syllable a punch to the ribs.
They got her.
They took her.
She’s gone.
The studio comes into view and my stomach drops.
The lights are still on. The door is half open.
Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.
I slam the brakes hard enough that the car fishtails before stopping, gravel spraying across the pavement.
I’m out of the car before the engine finishes rumbling, my feet hitting the ground in a sprint.
The moment I step inside, the smell hits me. Not the blood. Not anything dramatic. Just the sharp, metallic tang of fear and the stale air of a place that should be safe but isn’t anymore. My chest tightens.
My vision narrows.
I move through the space fast, scanning every corner, every shadow, every overturned object. My heart is pounding so violently I can feel it in my teeth.
Jace is on the floor, slumped against the counter, breathing shallowly. His shirt is stained, his face pale, his eyes unfocused. He tries to lift his head when he hears me, tries to speak, tries to warn me, but the words don’t come out right. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands hovering.
“Where is she,” I say, but my voice isn’t steady. It’s shaking, cracking, barely holding together. I can’t stop looking at the door, at the street outside, at the empty space where she should be. My breath is too fast. My chest feels too tight. I can’t get enough air.
Jace tries to point. His hand trembles. His eyes flick toward the back exit. “Gone,” he manages, barely audible. “They… took her.”
The words hit me harder than anything Jaxon said. Seeing the aftermath makes it real in a way the phone call didn’t. The overturned chair. The scattered prints. The faint marks on the floor where someone struggled. The silence. The emptiness. The absence of her.