Page 140 of Carrick
“What is it?” she asked, her voice even—but I heard the tightness beneath it. That subtle, brittle edge she tried to hide. The way her words came out too level, like she was bracing for impact and didn’t want me to see her flinch. She still didn’t look at me.
I crossed the space between us slowly, careful not to come in too fast. Her whole body read coiled tight, and I didn’t want to trigger the wrong kind of reaction.
“Come with me,” I said, voice low, softened by instinct.
That made her turn—not fast, not defensive. Just measured. Controlled. Like she wasn’t sure yet whether I was the threat or the warning. Her eyes met mine, narrowed slightly, reading me like a threat assessment. Calculating. Sharp and wary, searching for whatever I wasn’t saying.
“Carrick…” Her voice carried weight. Not resistance, not fear—just a warning. A reminder that she wasn’t in the mood for games. And that she knew I was capable of playing them.
But I didn’t push. Didn’t slip into command. Not this time. This wasn’t a moment for dominance—it was one for care.
I softened my stance, let my shoulders drop. And I said it plainly. Gently. “Please.”
That did it—more than any order would’ve.
Her fingers slowly uncurled from the mug, each movement deliberate, like letting go took more strength than holding on. She set it down on the counter without breaking eye contact, then stepped forward in silence.
I led her through the main hall, past the laundry room, and into the narrow corridor that snaked behind the house. A forgotten sliver from an unfinished renovation. Unused. Overlooked. But not unimportant.
There were no cameras here. No chatter. Just stillness. Silence lived here—thick and waiting, like it knew how to keep secrets.
She leaned back against the wall, arms folded tight across her chest. Not for comfort. For armor. “What happened?” she asked again, her voice steady but thinner now.
I didn’t make her wait. I didn’t think she could survive the suspense. “Quinn found some surveillance footage.”
Her body stiffened instantly. Every line of her tensed like a trigger had been pulled.
But I didn’t give the panic time to grow. I followed fast, cutting in before fear could root too deep. “He’s alive,” I said quickly. “Whole. Walking. Not hurt.”
That broke her.
Her arms dropped, shoulders loosening like a string had been cut. I saw it—the shift, subtle but powerful, rippling through her like a tremor in the earth. Relief hit her hard and fast, so strong she nearly lost her footing. Her knees bent slightly, and one hand reached blindly for the wall beside her, fingers splayed wide to steady herself.
“Where?” she breathed, the word barely formed.
I hesitated. Just a breath. A pause that lasted no more than a second—but it was enough.
I saw it happen. The change in her face. The hope faltered, its fragile light dimming as dread curled around it like smoke. Her mouth parted. Her eyes narrowed.
“Carrick,” she whispered, voice cracking like glass. “Where?”
“East lot of Central Blue Valley,” I said quietly, watching her reaction.
She blinked. Once. Then again. Confusion pulled at her brow, then recognition, sharp and instant.
“That’s—”
“Dom Krovi territory,” I finished for her, my tone low. Controlled. “The SUV he got into was flagged on multiple feeds. Oleg Karsin was driving—he’s one of their upper enforcers. Brutal. Loyal. Been with the Dom Krovi for over a decade.”
Her whole body recoiled like I’d physically struck her.
“No.” The word slipped out like a breath stolen by the wind. “That’s not—he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t.”
But even as she said it, I saw the part of her that already knew.
I moved toward her, slow and careful, not reaching yet. Just stepping close enough that I could catch her if she fell.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered, backing away like my presence was a threat. “He was supposed to leave town. He promised. They… they must be holding him hostage again. They must have caught him.”
