Page 121 of Ruthless Secrets
Andre pauses, his brows pulled together in a deep frown as I pull out my phone.
There’s a message from an unknown number but from the sinking feeling in my stomach, I might already know who it is.
My gut twists as I swipe open the message.
Unknown
You think the girls are safe?Think again.
It’s the very same number that texted me after Zoe was left on Andre’s doorstep.
My pulse spikes but before I can react, another message comes through except this time, it’s a photo.
“Shit.” I look at the crystal-clear picture taken through the living room window of the cabin.
Clara is sitting on the couch with Zoe and Holly, completely oblivious to the threat that is right outside.
Andre frowns. “What is it?”
I turn my phone to show him, and his jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the image.
“That motherfucker.”
I immediately try calling Clara on the burner phone, but I’m met with nothing but the sound of a failed call.
Panic surges through me, white-hot and suffocating as I realize I can’t get through to her.
“It won’t connect.” I go to throw open the office door but before I can, Andre steps in front of me.
“We need to stay calm.” Andre places a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re fucking joking.”
“We don’t want to alert the guards to the fact we’ve just killed their boss. We can’t help the girls if we’re dead, so let’s just make it back to the car and then we can go from there.”
The urge to pull out my gun and open fire on every guard we pass on our way back to the car is almost too much.
My body is vibrating at the thought of some fucker being so close to the girls.
We’re over an hour away from the cabin, which means there is a high chance we might not get to them in time.
“Fucking move, Andre.”
My brother glares at me as we pass through the open gates.
I don’t know how he’s managing to look so calm despitethe fact that his wife and child are perhaps moments from death.
“Keep your shit together.” He throws open the car door. “Get in.”
I barely register climbing into the passenger seat. I desperately try to call Clara again as Andre speeds away from Alfonzo’s estate, the tires screeching against the road, but there’s still no answer.
“Fuck!” I yell as the call fails yet again.
Andre’s knuckles are white as he grips the wheel. His expression is stone-cold, but I know him well enough to see the anger simmering underneath.
“We’ll get there in time.” His voice is low and determined.
We don’t have a choice. Not if we ever want to see our girls alive again.
