And beside it, Rory’s name.
My lungs seize. Cold terror freezes my heart.
Rory’s in trouble.
Her tracker is just off the road that leads to the GMG property, no more than a mile from here.
So close.
What could have happened?
Did she get into an accident? Have a panic attack?
I have to get to her.
Of course, my truck is parked at my house, so I’m forced to run over there, wasting precious time. Halfway there, my phone rings, and a burst of hope ignites in my chest.
Maybe it was an accident. Maybe Rory’s calling with a sheepish explanation. Maybe she got a flat time and?—
But it’s not Rory. It’s Enzo.
Without preface, I answer the call, barking into the phone, “Rory’s in trouble. I need to get to her.”
“I know,” Enzo replies calmly. But there’s an undercurrent of tension in his voice. “I’m at the house. So is Knox. We’re heading there now.”
“She’s close,” I reply as I fling myself into the truck. “Maybe she got into an accident. Had a panic attack. Or—” A fresh blast of fear paralyzes my throat. “Ford? Mavers? Did they get out? Did the judge grant bail after all? An accomplice?”
“Alec’s on it. He just texted.”
“Ronan? If she’s hurt—” Though I’m trained in first aid, Ronan’s our team medic, so if Rory’s injured, he’s the best one to help.
“Ronan’s on the way. But he’s ten minutes out.”
“Shit.” I bite out the curse as I punch the ignition. “I’m in the truck. Heading there now.”
There’s a pause. A soft thud of footfalls sound in the background. Then an engine turns over. “Same. We should be there in a couple of minutes.”
Steering one-handed, I hold the phone in my other, splitting my attention between the road and the tracking app. As I’mwatching, Rory’s dot inches its way away from the main road and into the woods. “She’s moving,” I say through gritted teeth. “Why is she going into the woods?”
“I don’t know,” Enzo replies. “If she got into an accident, she could be disoriented…”
His words evoke a terrifying image. Rory; hurt, bleeding, stumbling into the woods. Confused. Frightened. Needing me.
My foot presses harder on the gas. The tires spin, kicking up bits of rocks and dirt.
Then I hit the main road, turning onto it with a fresh burst of speed. My heart thunders in my head, an echoing bass drum drowning out everything but my fear.
She has to be okay. She has to be.
Please.
Desperate hope leaves me breathless.Please. Let Rory be okay. Let this not be as bad as I fear.
But when I spot her car up ahead, my hopes plummet.
It’s off the road, twin tracks of dirt dug into the grass behind it. The hood is crumpled against a maple tree, wisps of smoke rising from it. One door hangs open, revealing an empty driver’s seat inside.
Though I knew Rory wouldn’t be in the car, it’s still a blow.