Page 62 of Cole: Bloodlines
Maddy frowned and cautiously stepped forward away from the door, hand tentatively stretching into the black void before him. His fingertips touched hair—soft, tangled strands that felt electric against his skin—and the other occupant erupted in panic, screaming with a high-pitched terror that sliced through the darkness. Hands slapped blindly at his arm, fingernails scraping his skin. A girl, her fear palpable as a physical force between them.
Backing away, Maddy held up his hands in the darkness, his heart hammering against his ribs like it might break through. “I-I'm not gonna hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. “I'm not...”
The screaming died away into tense silence, heavy with uneven breathing, then a shaky voice whispered, “M-Maddy...?” The voice was thin, disbelieving, edged with hope so desperate it hurt to hear.
Maddy went deathly still, convinced he was hallucinating the voice, his muscles locking as if movement might shatter this impossible moment.
“Maddy...?” More desperate now, his name tumbling out on a broken sob that seemed to echo in the cramped space.
Trembling badly, Maddy reached out with shaky hands, his fingers quivering in the blackness, disbelief cracking his voice. “Savannah...?”
“Maddy!” The girl grabbed him in the darkness and flung her arms around him, breaking into sobs that wracked her entire frame. She clung to him in a death grip, her nails gouging into his back. She cried uncontrollably against his shoulder, her tears hot and wet against his skin, as her body shook violently beneath his hands.
Maddy hugged her tightly, his palms flattened against her chilled skin, goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips. His thumb brushed the elastic of her bra strap, then the thin band of her panties as he gripped her waist, feeling every rib beneath her skin.God, please… don't let them have hurt her…He held her closer and pressed his face into her tangled hair, the faint scent of strawberry shampoo nearly gone beneath sweat and fear, and cried with her, hot tears running down his dirt-streaked face.
“You… You're alive…” she whispered through her sobs, voice breaking. “I-I thought…” Her body strained beneath her cries as her broken nails cut into his back, leaving trails of stinging pain he barely registered.
“I'm here,” he whispered thickly and kissed her head, tightening his arms until he could feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest. “I'm right here.” He sniffed, swallowing hard past a lump in his throat that felt like broken glass. “We're gonna get out of here and go home. I promise.” He hugged her harder, feeling the delicate bones of her shoulder blades beneath his palms. “I promise.”
Savannah sniffed and raised her head, her uneven breath warm and damp on his face in the pitch blackness. “C-Cole is here,” she whispered, lips trembling against his cheek. “And… Gabe. That man… he has them.”
“What?” Maddy frowned, a queasy knot coiling like a snake in his gut. “Cole and Gabe? He took them, too?”
Savannah sniffed again, a sob catching in her throat. “And… And Abel.”
“Abel?”
“He's safe,” Savannah whispered, her words feather-light with relief. “Cole told me. He's home. He's safe.” She trembled and broke down again, her entire body convulsing with each ragged breath. “I-I thought he was dead… I thought you were dead.” She shoved her face against his throat, crying, her tearsrunning down his collarbone. “I thought… I thought I was going to die, too.”
“You're not,” Maddy said with determination, his voice hardening like cement. “I won't let anything happen to you.” His breath quickened as he held her against him, the metallic taste of fear in his mouth dissolving as his full focus wrapped around Savannah—and keeping her safe.
Cole stood motionless, his body like steel, every muscle stretched taut with tension beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. His grip on the gun remained firm and steady, knuckles white against the black metal, his eyes narrowed into predatory slits, fixed on the rusted door like a sniper on his target. The feverish warmth of Gabe's ragged breathing warmed Cole's back as he planted himself like a human shield, legs braced shoulder-width apart on the grime-slicked concrete floor, protecting his husband from whatever nightmare might burst through that corroded barrier.
But no one entered. The door stayed shut, its pitted surface mocking them with its stillness.
“What the hell?” Gabe murmured, his voice a sandpaper whisper that scraped against the suffocating silence, perfectly voicing the confusion that churned in Cole's gut.
Cole's stance faltered, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as he cautiously lowered the gun to hip level, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the weapon, finger hovering near the trigger in case the door suddenly exploded inward. “I don't know...” When Gabe started to move around him toward the door, Cole's arm shot out, palm pressing against his husband's blood-soaked chest. “Let me.”
He signaled for Gabe to move out of the line of fire with a sharp nod of his chin, then crept forward on the balls of his feet, raising the gun again until the barrel lined up with where an intruder's center mass would appear. He pressed his ear to the cold metal of the door and listened, holding his breath. Nothing but dead silence pressed back against his eardrum. That didn't mean someone wasn't out there in the darkness, waiting for them with predatory patience.
Daniel knew they had his gun. He wouldn’t rush in, knowing he might get shot. But he could unlock the door and take them down when they stepped out. It was probably a trap. Who else would unlock the door?
Despite Cole's objection, Gabe joined him at the door, his labored breathing whistling through clenched teeth, blood seeping through his T-shirt in a crimson Rorschach pattern. Cole straightened, the tendons in his neck straining. “It's got to be a trap.”
“What choice do we have?” Gabe asked with a note of tension. “We have to get out of here and get to the kids.”
Cole agreed but hesitated, his fingers whitening around the gun's grip. “Let me check it out first.”
“Cole…” Gabe's plea hung in the fetid air between them.
“You're hurt,” Cole said, eyes flicking to the dark stain spreading across Gabe's shirt. “You're not going out there.” He pressed himself against the wall, the cold concrete leaching through his sweat-soaked shirt, and pulled the door open a few inches. The rusted metal scraped sharply, and Cole winced, sweat beading along his hairline. He peered around the doorframe into the shadowed corridor beyond—a throat of darkness that could hide anything. Cole held his breath until his lungs burned, straining to hear past the jackhammer pulse in his ears.
Nothing but the drip of distant water and the hollow moan of air through abandoned passages.
They couldn't wait. Every minute they hesitated was another minute the children spent in the monsters’ grasp.
Cole motioned for Gabe to stay back with a sharp flick of his hand, then eased through the gap in the rusted door, the cold breath of metal brushing against his sweat-slick skin. He moved in a half-crouch, weapon raised in both hands, index finger just outside the trigger guard.
