Page 39 of Stormy Knight

She dashed towards the shadow of a nearby wreckage, her injured wrist a constant reminder of how close she’d come to falling apart.

She gritted her teeth, slowly pushing herself to sit up, trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain that lanced through her left ankle enough to have her forget about the constant stinging from the cut on her hand. The moment she shifted her weight onto her ankle, the world around her went white with pain, and she bit back a cry, clutching the ground for stability. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to steady herself.

Her ankle felt like it was on fire, and every movement sent a jolt of agony up her leg. She couldn’t stay here, though—if her ex had even the slightest clue of where she was, he wouldn’t stop until he found her. She had to move.

Shaking, she forced herself onto her good leg, cradling her injured wrist as she hobbled forward, limping toward the far end of the lot where an old, crumbling building loomed in the distance. It looked like a factory or warehouse of some sort, and it was her only shot at cover. There was no way she’d be able to outrun him with her ankle like this.

Her breath was ragged as she pushed herself forward, each step an agonizing reminder of her vulnerability, but she knew she had no choice. The car had passed, but she could hear the sound of tires grinding against the pavement, the unmistakable hum of an engine hunting her. She had to get inside.Now.

Whiskey’s heart pounded in her chest as she fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking with the urgency of the moment. Her mind raced as she quickly unlocked it, swiping through the apps with frenzied precision. She found it… the tracker app she and Stormy had set up years ago, just in case something went wrong. They’d always joked about how if they went missing, they’d be able to find one another’s body.

The app pinged, and Whiskey’s breath caught in her throat as the map on the screen loaded. She could see Stormy’s location, a small blinking dot on the map, still deep in the industrial part of town, right near the abandoned buildings. Whiskey’s pulse quickened.

She tapped the screen to zoom in, her mind racing. It was a place she wished would never cross her mind again.

Without a second thought, Whiskey asked Parker to watch Effie while she called Jackson. The sound of her own heart beating pounded in her ears as she dialed her husband’s number.

When he answered she didn’t hesitate, “I’ve got her location!” she shouted into the phone.

Jackson was trying to understand his wife’s words, “Whiskey slow down and tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s an app. We have an app and I have Stormy’s location.” Whiskey repeated.

“Sent,” she told Jackson.

“I’ll call you when we have her,” Jackson told his wife before hanging up.

Once off the phone with Whiskey he opened up the pin, “I know this area.” Jackson commented, his voice dark, “This is where Whiskey had been taken, he added, his voice laced with anger.

“We’ve got her location. Let’s go get her.” Reeves said to his brothers.

“Where exactly?” Monroe asked Jackson.

“Near the warehouse complex off Main and Fifth. She’s close to the buildings.”

Every step was a battle, but Stormy pushed on, refusing to stop despite the overwhelming pain coursing through her body. Her ankle burned with every step, the sharp stab of agony threatening to buckle her legs beneath her. Her wrist, still cradled against her chest, throbbed with a steady pulse of pain, but she ignored it. She had to. She couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now, not with him out there.

Tears blurred her vision, hot and unstoppable, streaming down her face as she hobbled toward the looming building. The cracked concrete was uneven underfoot, and her boots scraped against the gritty ground, adding to the ache in her bones. Every movement felt like it was pushing her body past its limits, but she refused to stop.

She thought of Whiskey. Her friend who had always been her rock and thethe group of people who would come for her, even now. They weren’t far. They couldn’t be. They were looking for her, she believed it deep in her bones.

The warm air bit at her skin, but the heat from her pain was what made her feel alive, made her feel like she was fighting, even if it was just for another minute.

Ahead the building loomed closer, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It wasn’t much—a rundown structure with broken windows and cracked walls, but it was something. It could give her the cover she needed, the time to catch her breath and maybe… just maybe time to figure out a plan.

She made it to the edge of the building and paused for just a moment, pressing her back against the cold wall, her chest heaving as she sucked in ragged breaths. The pain in her ankle flared again, and she felt dizzy from the strain. She wanted to rest, but she couldn’t afford to. Not yet.

Think, Stormy,she told herself.You can’t give up now.

She took another step, limping forward and hoping her body would hold together just long enough for the guys to get here. The thought of Paul finding her… of him hurting her again—pushed her onward, fueling her determination to survive.

She didn’t know how much time she had left or had passed, but she would keep going, one painful step at a time, until someone found her.

Using her good hand she forced the door open enough where she could squeeze herself through the opening.

She barely registered the pain, her pulse racing as she squeezed through the narrow opening. The metal, jagged and unforgiving, scraped across her skin with a ferocity that made her clench her teeth.

She had told herself to stay calm, to think things through. But in that moment, fear clouded her judgment. The rush of adrenaline made her reckless. She had to keep moving, she couldn’t stop now.

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