Page 25 of Marked

Cole’s hand on her bicep stopped her well before she reached her door. “Let me go first.”

She pulled back her shoulders. “I’m the cop,” she whispered.

If he’d heard her declaration, he chose not to respond. Instead, he eased her against the wall and drew his weapon.

Frustration simmered in her gut, and the dense food she’d just eaten threatened to make a reappearance. Part of her wanted to show him who was in charge, but she just didn’t have the fight in her. Let him flex his muscles if it floated his boat. She was too damn tired.

He pushed open the door, and her body wavered with unease.

It wasn’t locked. Matter of fact, it hadn’t even been fully shut. A fresh wave of violation struck her with the force of a hurricane.

As if taking her daughter hadn’t been enough, they’d broken into her apartment too. A second wind filled her muscles. She positioned the gun in front of her, directed at the ground, and entered her home.

The first thing that struck her was the air. It didn’t carry the usual homey scent of cloves, an essential oil she often diffused. Or if it did, the stench of intrusion overpowered it.

Instead, the atmosphere was thick. Gritty. The energy in such sharp contrast to her and Bella’s usually happy atmosphere that it clung to her skin.

Cole moved quickly, his footsteps silent as he crossed into the living room then stepped out of her sightline to make his way down the hall to the bedrooms.

Sophia took in the kitchen. Nothing was out of place. Their breakfast dishes still sat next to the sink. Then she brought her attention to the front door. The wood of the frame was splintered and the dark-blue paint chipped, as if someone had pried open the door with a crowbar.

A violent storm circulated inside her.

“All clear. Come to the bedrooms.”

Tearing her feet from the floor, she shut the door and secured the lock—not that it’d hold off anyone now.

Making her way to the back of the apartment, she found Cole in the doorway of Bella’s room, his stance wide, his gun hanging at his side. The breadth of his shoulders made the room shrink.

She swallowed and sidled around him.

Bella’s room was trashed. Dresser tipped over, mattress flipped. Clothes had been torn from the closet, and broken glass from her knickknacks and piggy bank lay scattered on the floor.

Scorching tears rushed to Sophia’s eyes.

If Bella saw her room like this, she’d be devastated. The assault on her baby girl’s personal space jarred Sophia’s body, and she leaned her palm on the wall for support.

Even the stuffed animals had been slashed with a knife. Stuffing was strewn around the room in a hateful storm.

“W-Who would do this?” The question was moot. Stupid even.

There was fury behind the message. Bella’s abduction had been a direct hit against her. Psychological warfare.

Cole touched her shoulder. “Clearly this is personal. Someone wants to stop you, silence you, hell, maybe even get you back for—”

Sophia crushed her knuckles against her lips, and a sob ripped from her throat. This was all her fault. Whoever had done this wanted to hurt her in the worst way possible.

There was no chance Bella would be left untouched.

Her shoulders shook, and her gun fell from her fingers. Her mind willed her body to be transported to Bella. To wake up from this nightmare, or to at least swap her own life with her daughter’s.

Cole’s arms closed around her, pulling her into his warmth. She shook her head and pushed at the wall of his chest, but he didn’t relent.

Her muscles gave way, and she dropped her head to his sternum. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any soothing sounds, but his heat surrounded her body like a blanket from the dryer, absorbing some of her pain.

His chin touched her head and his hand twitched on her spine. “I’ll find these fuckers. I promise you.”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter. Look at this.” She flung out her hand without pulling her head from the safety of his embrace. “They want me to suffer. They’re going to kill her, if they haven’t already.” Hopelessness closed in around her. Weakness took hold of her legs.

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