Page 48 of Piston

"I swear, I told you everything. I want to find her too, Piston. I fucked up, I know that. Let me help make it right."

I stare at him for a long moment, weighing his sincerity. Finally, I give a curt nod.

"Mount up," I say, striding towards my bike. "We've got work to do."

As the engines roar to life, I send up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening. Hold on, baby. I'm coming for you. And god help anyone who tries to stand in my way.

We tear out of the parking lot, a pack of snarling steel beasts on the hunt. The wind whips past, stinging my eyes, but I barely feel it. All I can think about is Jenny, out there somewhere, alone and scared.

Dagger takes the lead, his phone mounted on the handlebars, barking out directions over the comm system. We weave through traffic, splitting lanes, running reds. Nothing else matters but getting to that grocery store, finding some clue to where they took her.

The minutes stretch like hours, each mile dragging by in a blur of asphalt and exhaust. But finally, we screech into the store's parking lot, rubber burning against the pavement.

I'm off my bike before it's even stopped, scanning the sea of cars for any sign of her truck. And there, at the far end, I spot it. That familiar blue paint job, the dent in the rear fender from when she backed into a pole outside the clubhouse.

Relief floods through me, so sharp it's almost painful. She's here. She has to be.

I sprint across the lot, the others hot on my heels. But as I draw closer, that relief turns to lead in my gut. The driver's side door is hanging open, keys dangling from the ignition. And there, on the ground...

"No," I breathe, stumbling to a halt. "No, no, no."

Her purse, contents scattered across the pavement. Her phone, screen shattered. And a plastic grocery bag, ripped open, a pink box tumbling out.

I reach for it with shaking hands, already knowing what I'll find. A pregnancy test, unopened, mocking me with its cheery packaging. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The automatic doors slide open with a hiss, and I'm moving, Dagger right beside me. We storm into the grocery store like hellhounds on the scent, riding a wave of fear and fury that threatens to consume me whole.

"Where's your security office?" I snap at the first employee I see, a scrawny kid who nearly drops his pricing gun in shock.

He stammers, eyes wide, but I don't have time for this. I grab him by the collar, hauling him in close. "The cameras. Where are they?"

"B-back of the store," he manages, pointing a shaking finger. "Through those doors."

I shove him away, already moving. Dagger's on my heels, a silent, seething presence at my back.

We burst into the security office like a battering ram, startling the poor bastard manning the desk. He half-rises from his chair, mouth opening in protest, but I'm already in his face.

"The parking lot cameras," I growl, slamming my hands down on the desk. "Pull up the footage from the last hour. Now."

To his credit, the manager doesn't argue. Maybe it's the cut on my back, or the barely leashed violence in Dagger's eyes, but he starts clicking away at the keyboard without a word.

The screens flicker, grainy images of the parking lot popping up in a grid. I scan them frantically, heart pounding, until--there. Jenny's truck, parked near the edge of the lot.

"There," I bark, jabbing a finger at the screen. "Rewind it. Find her."

The manager complies, the footage blurring as he speeds it backward. And then, like a punch to the gut, there she is. Jenny, walking across the parking lot, a bag of groceries in her arms.

She's smiling, radiant even in the washed-out grey of the security feed. My heart clenches, a physical ache in my chest. And then--

A van screeches into frame, tires squealing. The side door slides open, and a figure leaps out, grabbing Jenny from behind. I see the flash of a knife, the blade pressed to her throat, and my blood turns to ice in my veins.

She struggles, thrashing against her attacker, but it's no use. He drags her backward, towards the waiting van, and I watch in helpless horror as she's swallowed up by the darkness within.

The door slams shut, the van peeling out of the parking lot with a screech of rubber on asphalt. And just like that, she's gone. Taken.

A roaring fills my ears, a red haze descending over my vision. I'm dimly aware of Dagger's hand on my arm, his voice a distant buzz, but I can't make out the words. Can't focus on anything but the sickening lurch of fear in my gut, the knowledge that every second that passes is another second she's in their hands.

I have to find her. Have to bring her back, before... before...

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