Page 8 of Cole

Cole wilted with relief that his husband was safe. Except he wasn’t—none of them were.

The cowboy remained squatting before him, a strained look on his face. “What do you mean he wants Gabe—” Clint’s cell rang, and the cowboy stood, retrieving the device from his pocket. “Hello?” He listened with a tense expression and then muttered, “All right. Thanks for calling.”

“Who was that?” Cochise asked. Everyone waited, their nerves wound tight.

Clint put away his phone. “Max, he said an officer stopped by the house, wanting to speak to Cole. He’s on his way here.”

“Talk to me about what?” Cole whispered with a tremor.

“The attack has been reported,” Devlin stated. “He likely just wants to hear your side of the story.”

Cole hung his head. “What am I supposed to say?” he choked. “If I tell the truth… I can’t tell the truth. If I involve the cops...”

“Just tell them about finding Gabe,” Dane said. “You don’t need to say anything more than that. If the truth endangers our family, they don’t need to know.”

Horror images from the past haunted Cole’s mind.You have no idea what this madman is capable of.Telling the men about the things his father had done could never compare to experiencing it, witnessing it. Keeping the cops out of it didn’t ensure their family’s safe return—even handing over Gabe wouldn’t guarantee it.What if they’re already dead?

No. Cole refused to believe that.

What if they’re suffering something worse than death?

Indeed, it existed. Death wasn’t always the most terrible fate someone could face. Cole had seen this reality reflected in the faces of the Mangler’s victims. They yearned for death long before the madman was done with them.

“We shouldn’t be here when the cop arrives,” Clint said. “We’ll hang around the hospital but keep out of sight.”

Cole nodded. He felt more at ease with the gangsters nearby, though he wasn’t sure if they could even stand up to the Mangler. Facing monstrous humans wasn’t the same as confronting an actual monster. Clint and Cochise were the true protectors of the family. If they died…

They’re not going to die. NO ONE is going to die!

The nightmare of the past strongly suggested a different reality.

The power that the madman desired demanded blood sacrifices—possibly several. The anguish and terror inflicted on his victims nourished his hunger, while the trauma borne by the survivors was merely the finishing touch.

Devlin stood motionless, his body taut. He flexed his hands at his sides, gazing at Cole.

This is my fault,Cole despaired.I brought this horror into his life. He might lose his family because of me.

The gangsters left the waiting room. Dane draped his arm around Cole’s shoulders and echoed Clint’s question. “What do you mean he wanted Gabe? Did he tell you that?”

“Yes,” Cole rasped, his voice thick. “He said… he said I have until tomorrow morning to… to make my decision.” Cole leaned forward, pressing his forehead to his knees, gasping on sobs.

Devlin released a shaky breath. “What will you tell Gabe?”

Cole sniffed and lifted himself enough to rest his elbows on his knees. Tears streamed down his face. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t hesitate to make the trade. He wouldn’t even have to think about it.” Cole looked up with watery eyes at Devlin. “Neither would I.” He swallowed hard. “I-I tried to trade myself for them, but… but he wouldn’t take me. He wants to torment my mind before he kills me. He wants to break me… by taking away everything I love.”

With each word from Cole, Devlin felt his mental stability slip further away. A serial killer had taken his family hostage, and horrifying visions of their fate loomed, threatening to snap the already fragile thread of his sanity—a thread that was rapidly unraveling.

“I…” Devlin said softly, clearing his throat. “I’ll check on Gabe.” He fought the urge to run from the room, managing to exit in a composed manner. Once in the corridor, he leaned against the wall, bending forward and clutching his knees. Devlin inhaled slowly, taking deep breaths to combat the panic seizing his thoughts and overwhelming his body.

Keep it together—keep it fucking together!

Devlin slowly straightened, pressing his back firmly against the wall for support. His knees felt rubbery and unsupportive beneath him. “Fuck…” His chin trembled as he stared at the high ceiling, tears seeping from his eyes. “Please, God…” His hand crept over his mouth and held fast, pressing tightly as if to suppress the sobs rising in his throat.What are we going to do? Dear God, what are we going to do?!

“Get a grip…” Devlin whispered shakily. “You can’t… lose it…” He pushed away from the wall and walked down the corridor with a stiff gait, his legs resisting proper movement. Struggling to regain his composure, he inquired about Gabe at the nurse’s station, discovering he was out of surgery but not yet awake. Devlin returned to the waiting room with this information, pausing outside the door momentarily to calm his nerves and collect himself.

It didn’t work. His mind spun horror scenes inside his head, refusing him a semblance of peace or hope. Devlin leaned against the wall and hugged his gut, bending forward. Tears welled behind his clenched eyelids, and when he opened his eyes, they spilled down his face, dripping onto the floor.

I can’t handle this… I can’t fucking handle this…

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