Page 48 of Peripheral Vision

I swipe once more and this time, there’s a video attached. I don’t want to watch it, but Ihaveto. The camera clicks on and the screen flickers to life, revealing her. She’s in a torn dress, barely enough to protect her modesty as she sits in a dimly lit room, her hands shaking as they rest in her lap. There are bruises running up her arms and wrapping around her neck, amongst other injuries, evidence of the torment she’s been through. She looks disoriented, her breath ragged, and for a moment she doesn’t speak. Then her voice, hoarse and broken, comes through, each word weighted with exhaustion. “I didn’t want to do this, didn’t want you to see me like this. I just… want it to stop. Every day, they make me do things that I don’t even want to think about. Every day, I hope that they’re done, but they always do something worse.Hedoes something worse. If you’re watching this, I don’t know if you can find me, but please…pleasedon’t stop trying. I’m still fighting… they’ve sent you this video because they want you to think I’ve given up. But I haven’t, not yet. You’re all I have left, Fletcher.”

There’s a sinister chuckle followed by the sound of footsteps, and the camera tilts down slightly as a new person comes into view, but I can’t make out their figure. The voice sneers though, and there is something familiar about it. “All these pictures, now this video, and you still can’t find her. Isn’t that pathetic?” Dylan flinches back as whoever this is reaches out to touch her face, and I can see her lip quiver. “Go ahead, cry for him, sweetheart. Show him what a pretty mess we’ve made out of you.” But she doesn’t speak, whatever life she had left in her words dying on her tongue. “See that?” The voice speaks. “This is what happens when you finally learn to listen. Wewere having to remind her what happens when she forgets her place, but she’s learning. She’s become such a good girl, always so quiet when we ask her to be.” The sound of a sharp slap echoes through the video, making Dylan flinch once more, her body recoiling as she winces in pain. The figure laughs as the camera zooms in on Dylan’s face, allowing me to get one last long look at her, and then the screen cuts to black.

The silence around me is deafening, the sound of my blood dripping onto the floor, the only noise in the room over the sound of my rapidly beating heart. The pain from the cuts in my hand starts to register and I let the rest of the glass fall to the floor as I go to the kitchen sink to rinse out my wounds. Nathan is outside, he’s been good about giving me my space, but I no longer need it. I need to get her back, and I need him to do it. Once I patch up my hand and sweep up the glass on the floor, I step out onto the back patio. “I’m done waiting.”

“Jesus, Fletcher, what the fuck did you do?” He stands from his spot on the back porch, setting his laptop down.

I hand him my phone. “They sent me more today, more than they have been, and this time they included a video. I’m going, with or without you. I’ll go door to door, town to town, if I have to, but I can’t sit here for another fucking minute while she continues to endure what they’re putting her through.”

Nathan nods as he takes the phone from me, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. His eyes flicker to the phone and he presses a few buttons, scrolling through the messages, both old and new, and the video. I can see the gears turning in his head. Something’s different in the way he’s looking at the screen now. His hand drops from my shoulder. “You need to see this,” he says suddenly, his voice sharp. He holds the phone out to me, his eyes wide with urgency and disbelief. I take the phone from him, my heart pounding as I look at the screen. At first, it seems like more of the same, another graphic image I’m looking at—but then I notice something unusual. It’s a photo of Dylan lying face down on a table, unconscious, taken from adistance, but the details are still there. Including a piece of paper that is tucked between the shelves above her, out of place amongst the uniformity, as if placed there on purpose.

I zoom in trying to get a better look at it, but the writing is too blurry to make out… though the fact that it’s there… “Are you able to make out what it says?”

Nathan’s hand runs through his hair as he tries to process the hidden message. “Can’t… stop… can give… this. She’s alive… find… please. And then there’s an address. The numbers are too small to make out, but I think the street address saysElderbrook Way.”

My mind reels. Someone on the inside has done this to help us. They want us to find her. They’re risking everything to give us a chance. “But why? Why help us? Are we sure this isn’t some trick to set us up?”

Nathan shakes his head, his jaw tight. “It’s not a trick. If it were, they’d never have sent this. The way the paper is placed, it’s meticulous enough that you wouldn’t see it unless you were really looking for it and based off of the way Dylan looks in this photo… their focus was all on her. Either way, we can’t waste this lead.”

I look down at the photo again, my fingers tightening around the phone. A part of me wonders if it was Callum—is Callum. He still hasn’t popped up, but between the postcard in the alleyway and now this… with the locations being related, none of this is a coincidence. Slowly, I begin to nod. “I need to get to her,” I whisper, my voice shaky but resolute. “I have to go now. I can’t wait any longer.

Nathan looks at me, his eyes hardening. “We’ll go together. You’ll never make it in there on your own. We’ll figure it out on the way. I just looked it up using the street name and the town from the postcard… if we’re right about this we have about a six-hour drive.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what’s at stake, but also the adrenaline pumping through me. This isn’t just about me anymore, my past, my goals. Someone, even if it is Callum, is risking everything to help us. If they find out they’ve been blown… they could move again, they couldkillDylan. “Let’s go, then.”

The six-hour drivetook us five, whereas I would’ve preferred it to take even less. But we had more than a few close calls with state troopers as our speeds topped out near 100mph, and I didn’t need any more issues. We never slowed below the speed limit though. Before we had left, I contacted Dylan’s landlords through her phone, which had more than enough missed messages from her friends, Thea and Lacey, but I didn’t have time to focus on them or to answer their questions. Her landlords had enough for me, and I could only offer them so much without alluding to how much danger she is really in or what truly happened. But they agreed to take care of Alaska so long as I let them know as soon as I had her.

Nathan had managed to confirm that this was an HQ location with an unknown number of people inside, victims and employees alike.

We rolled into town shortly after ten p.m., the streets quiet, as we expected them to be with such a small population. The only signs of life were the occasional flicker of a porch light. There wasn’t even another car out. Nathan hadn’t said much during the drive, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. We weren’t sure if we were going to go in right away tonight, even though every inch of my skin was screaming at me to get to her. We needed to get a proper visual on what turned out to be an old shoe factory. It sat off an old dirt road that turned out to be off ofElderbrook Way, but it wasn’t hard to find. I parked the car about a mile away, killing the headlights long before we reached the turn and hiding the car amongst the trees.

“Lights are off,” Nathan mutters, his eyes locked on the factory from our position in the brush. We’ve been sitting out here for about an hour now, looking for signs of movement. So far, the only thing we’ve seen is the same ten guards making their rounds. If they have this many on the outside… we are going to be sorely outnumbered.

“From what we can see…” Which isn’t much because there aren’t many windows. Nathan nods, his hand twitching near the concealed holster on his hip. We both know what this could turn into if things go south. “If things go south, we don’t hesitate. We get her and get out. If you have to leave me behind… do it.” I can tell he wants to argue with me, but her safety is the only thing that matters to me, so I pin him with a glare. I know that I can’t live without her, but she’s proving she can live without me, even if I don’t want her to. We watch another guard rotation go by in silence. Two on the east side, one posted near what looks like a loading dock, three on the west side near the main entrance, and four patrolling the fence line. The setup doesn’t sit right with me.

The guards are too predictable, their routes too tidy. I would expect more guards to be at the loading dock considering we know what kind of cargo is brought in there. Either they aren’t expecting anyone, or they want us to think that. I don’t think this is a set up, but they’re also not stupid. Nathan shifts beside me, breaking my train of thought. “We can’t wait all night, Fletcher. What’s the move?”

“We’ll take the west side; cut the fence where it’s weakest near the tree line. Get inside quiet and fast.” My voice is steady, besides the self-doubt forming from that statement.

“And if it’s not quiet?” Nathan asks, his hand already resting on his hip.

“Then we improvise.” And hope like hell nobody else gets hurt. I really don’t have anything else for him. We’re both out of our element here because they know who we are. They would never buy our covers, even if we did try to use them.

“Alright, lead the way.” We move swiftly, sticking to the shadows. The crisp night air cuts into my lungs, sharp and cold, but it helps keep me grounded. Every sound we make seems amplified and I swear I can hear screams somewhere in the distance—it’s awful to say, but I hope they’re anybody but Dylan’s. My mind is racing with contingency plans, though none feel good enough.They likely aren’t. We’d have to run from the factory back to the car and that is at least a mile if we managed a straight shot… plus Dylan being exhausted, however many people we’d have to fight our way through… possibly bringing other victims out with us. Where would they go when that happens? There are too many unknowns, and I don’t like it. When we notified our bosses of what we were doing, they said we were going in on our own unless we wanted to wait, which was obviously not an option, but they weren’t going to stop us, either. If we’re lucky we will get in and out without a fight. But luck hasn’t really been on my side in a while.

When we reach the fence, Nathan crouches, pulling out the bolt cutters from his pack. His hands work quickly, but silently, cutting through the links with precision as thoroughly as he would the human body. I keep watch, scanning the tree line and the factory for any further signs of movement. The guards continue their rotation, oblivious—for now. That was going to have to change momentarily for those at the front gate, though, in order for us to get in undetected. I look at Nathan, nodding at him. “You ready?” He gives me one swift nod and I let out a low whistle, the sound barely cutting through the night air, but it’s enough. From the door, the guards go on alert, spreading out in opposite directions. Nathan finishes the last cut, slipping the severed section of fence aside with care. Just in time for the first guard to get up close and personal.

He moves quickly, his flashlight beam slicing through the darkness, but he doesn’t see me step out of the shadows and through the cut line in the fence until it’s too late. My blade flashes in the faint moonlight, a gurgled choke is all the sound he manages before I ease him to the ground, his radio crackling faintly at his hip. Nathan follows me through the gap, his movements catlike. We drag the body behind the nearest bush before moving on to the other two, which we dispatch with perfect synchrony. I wipe my blade clean on the guard’s uniform before tucking it away. “We better get in there. They’re hidden well enough but I’m sure they do routine radiochecks and will be wondering when they don’t hear from these gents.”

The steel door is just ahead, but the closer we get, the more voices we can make out on the other side. Victims? Guards? Buyers? We don’t know, and we won’t until we get in there. I glance at Nathan, understanding an unspoken command between us. My grip goes to my own holster and for a brief second I think of Dylan—of her smile, her laugh, and of all the resolve I still have yet to break down in her. I can only hope that she still strives to fight me in the way I know webothlove once I get her out of here. Because she will get out of here. Nathan signals and we move silently, our footsteps muffled against the cold ground. He eases the door open, just wide enough for us to slip through. The room is dim, the shadows hiding us as we move. There are two guards that stand near a table, their backs to us, weapons holstered. That answers that question; they weren’t prepared. Perfect.

In the corner near them, four women and two children huddle, bound and trembling. My stomach twists as I search for Dylan, but none of them are her. Nathan holds his finger to his mouth telling them to be quiet as they spot us, and he moves first, dropping one of the guards with a muffled choke, leaving me the perfect opportunity to surprise the other. I step forward, pressing my gun to his temple. “Don’t,” I whisper as he reaches for his own gun. “Dylan. Where is she?” He may not know who I’m referring to, but with how this whole operation has gone down, I have a feeling he does. His mouth opens but no words come out. So that’s how they wanna play it?

Chapter

Thirty-Three

DYLAN

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