Chapter Twelve
Kade————————
The footage loads on my screen and my stomach drops so fast it feels like the ground disappears beneath me.
The image is grainy, the angle shit, but the face is clear enough.
I know him. I know exactly who he is. One of the two assholes who stood outside my warehouse at seven in the morning, leaning against that flashy sports car like they owned the street.
The brunette. The one who said Mara’s full name like he’d been practicing it.
The one who talked about their friend being obsessed with her.
The one who wanted to go to her studio. The one who shouldn’t have known anything about her.
My grip tightens on the wheel until my knuckles ache. My breath comes fast, uneven, scraping through my chest. “I know him,” I say, voice low and shaking. “He was outside my warehouse. Before the gala.”
Jaxon inhales sharply. “You’re sure.”
“Positive.” My jaw clenches until it hurts. “He was looking for her then. He’s looking for her now.”
I take a corner too fast, the tires screaming against the pavement. The car skids before gripping again. My pulse is a constant roar in my ears. My vision blurs at the edges, panic rising with every mile I put between myself and the studio.
Jaxon’s voice comes through again, faster now, keys clacking in the background. “I ran the footage through facial recognition. He’s tied to a small enforcement group. Real nasty reputation. And he’s connected to the guy who grabbed Mara outside the bar.”
My stomach twists. I taste metal. “Their friend.”
“Yeah.” Jaxon’s voice tightens. “The one who didn’t come home.”
The teeth. The ones left in her kitchen. The ones I wrapped in a pretty little box, a gift for her. The ones that belonged to the man who touched her. The man who thought he could take her. The man I made disappear.
They’re not looking for me. They’re looking for him. And they think she knows what happened.
Jaxon curses under his breath. “I’ve got a possible address. Warehouse on the outskirts of town. Abandoned on paper. Not abandoned in reality.”
My pulse spikes again, sharp and suffocating. I slam my foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as the car surges forward. The tires screech, the sound ripping through the night. I don’t care. I don’t care about speed limits or caution or anything except getting to her.
“Send it,” I say, voice cracking.
The address pops up on my screen. I know the area. I know the kind of men who use places like that. I know what kind of rooms they set up. What kind of chairs they bolt down. What kind of lights they hang overhead. My stomach twists violently. My breath shakes. My hands tremble on the wheel.
Jaxon speaks again, quieter now. “Kade… she’s tough. She’ll hold on.”
“I’m a fucking hour away Jaxon! do you know what could happen in that amount of time? What’s already happened?! Fuck!” I scream, slamming my hands into the steering wheel.
“We’ll get to her Kade, we have to.” His voice cracks
My mind is full of her. Her fear. Her voice. Her absence. The thought of her tied to a chair in some cold room makes my vision blur with rage.
I push the car harder, the engine screaming as I tear down the road toward the outskirts of town.
The outskirts of town rise up around me, empty roads, industrial lots, the kind of places people disappear in.
I spot the warehouse before I even slow down.
It looks abandoned, but the lights inside aren’t dead.
There’s a faint glow leaking through the cracks in the metal siding.
My stomach twists violently. My breath catches.
I slam the brakes, the tires screaming against the pavement, and I’m out of the car before it fully stops.
Jaxon pulls in behind me, his headlights cutting across the gravel. He’s out of his car just as fast, his face tight, his breath uneven. He doesn’t need to say anything. We both know she’s inside. We both know we’re already too late to stop whatever they’ve done.
I move first, sprinting across the gravel, my boots slipping on loose stones.
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. My vision blurs at the edges.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything except get to her.
The door is half open, like someone didn’t bother closing it properly.
I push it with my shoulder, the metal groaning as it swings inward.
The air hits me immediately. Cold. Stale. Humming with electricity. The same kind of air I’ve smelled in rooms meant for hurting people. My stomach drops. My pulse spikes. I step inside, Jaxon right behind me, both of us moving fast, scanning every corner, every shadow, every sound.
I push through the door, the metal groans at the impact I make with it, my shoulder throbs as I continue pushing through, glancing around to check if anyone is still inside the building, I notice trails of dust that have been kicked up, two sets of footprints on either side and scuff marks from a pair of boots that have been dragged through, I push myself harder, faster, the lack of noise in the building fills me with dread, my chest aches as I reach the end of the corridor, I freeze once I swing the door open.
Then I see her.
She’s slumped in a metal chair, head hanging forward, hair falling over her face.
Her wrists are bound. Her shirt is stained, cut open, her pants are unbuttoned, unzipped.
Her breathing is shallow, uneven, barely there.
My vision tunnels. My breath stops. My chest collapses.
I don’t remember crossing the room. I’m just suddenly there, dropping to my knees in front of her, my hands hovering because I don’t know where she’s hurt, don’t know how bad it is, don’t know if touching her will make it worse.
“Mara,” I say, but my voice cracks, thin and shaking, barely holding together. “Mara, look at me.”
She doesn’t respond. Her head lolls slightly when I touch her cheek, her skin cold under my fingers. My stomach twists so violently I feel sick. My pulse spikes until it’s painful. I try to steady her head, try to see her face, try to find her breath. She’s alive. Barely. But she’s alive.
Jaxon moves around us, checking the corners, checking the exits, checking for anyone still here. His voice is tight when he speaks. “They’re gone. They left her.”
I swallow hard, my throat burning. “They didn’t leave her. They dumped her.”
My hands shake as I reach for the restraints, fingers fumbling with the buckles. I can’t get them undone fast enough. My breath keeps catching. My chest feels too tight. My vision blurs with rage and fear and something close to grief.
Jaxon comes back to my side, his voice low. “Kade… we need to move her. Now.”
I nod, but I can’t look away from her. Her face is swollen. Her breathing is uneven. Her shirt is stained. Her body is limp. My pulse spikes again, sharp and suffocating. I slide my arms under her carefully, lifting her against my chest. She’s too light. Too still. Too quiet.
I stand, holding her close, her head resting against my shoulder. My breath shakes. My hands tremble. My heart feels like it’s tearing itself apart.
Jaxon opens the door for us, scanning the lot again. “We’ll get her out. We’ll get her safe.”
I carry her out of the building with a gentleness that feels foreign in my own hands, a softness that doesn’t match the murderous instinct flooding through me.
My arms tighten around her automatically, protective, desperate, terrified.
They touched her. They hurt her. I don’t know the extent of the damage.
I don’t want to know right now. I just need my Bunny to stay with me.
Her head rests against my shoulder, too still, too quiet, her breath shallow against my collarbone.
Every step I take feels like walking through water, heavy and slow, my pulse pounding so violently it shakes my vision.
Jaxon is right behind me, his footsteps crunching over the gravel, his breath uneven.
He keeps glancing over his shoulder, scanning the lot, checking for movement, but I can feel his eyes flick back to her every few seconds.
He’s scared. I can hear it in the way he breathes.
I can feel it in the way he moves. But he doesn’t say anything.
He knows better than to speak right now.
I reach the car and open the back door with my elbow, refusing to loosen my hold on her. Her body shifts slightly, a faint sound escaping her lips, barely there, barely conscious. My chest tightens painfully. I lower her into the seat as gently as I can, my hands trembling.
“Easy, Bunny,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’ve got you.”
Her eyes don’t open. Her breathing stays shallow.
Her skin feels too cold under my fingers.
I brush her hair back from her face, careful not to touch the swelling around her eye, careful not to let my hands shake too much.
I want to look at her injuries. I want to know what they did.
But I can’t. Not yet. Not while she’s like this.
Not while the rage in my chest is barely contained.
Jaxon comes around the side of the car, his face pale, his jaw tight. “Kade… we need to move. Now.”
I nod, but I don’t look away from her. I tuck her seatbelt around her carefully, making sure it doesn’t press against anything that might hurt. My hands keep shaking. My breath keeps catching. My heart feels like it’s tearing itself apart.
I close the door gently, like she’s made of glass, and circle around to the driver’s side.
Jaxon gets in beside me, already pulling up maps, routes, anything that gets us away from here fast. I start the engine, the rumble vibrating through my bones, and for a moment I just sit there, gripping the wheel, trying to breathe, trying to keep myself from falling apart.
“She’s alive,” Jaxon says quietly. “She’s alive, Kade.”
I nod once, sharp, barely controlled. “She’s hurt.”
“We’ll fix that.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is too tight. My chest feels like it’s collapsing.