Page 81 of Cole: Bloodlines
As they tucked thermal blankets around his skeletal frame, Wil caught a clearer glimpse of the man's face—hollowed cheeks covered in patchy stubble, a jagged scar bisecting his upper lip, eyes sunken into bruise-dark sockets. Not a boy at all, but a man perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight, reduced to this fragile husk.
When they carried the stretcher out of the office, Cole rose numbly and followed. As Wil moved past the wooden box, his flashlight beam swept the interior of the crate, illuminating a tapestry of human desperation—hundreds of scratch marks crisscrossed the splintered wood like primitive cave art, some mere surface scrapes, others gouged half an inch deep where fingernails had torn and broken against unyielding pine. Rusty-brown stains mapped constellations of suffering across the wood grain. In one corner, a small pile of human waste had calcified, and what looked like bite marks ringed the rim of the lid where desperate teeth had gnawed the wood. The lid's underside bore the worst marks—frantic, clustered gouges where panicked hands had clawed for escape in total darkness.
Bile scorched the back of Wil's throat as he turned away, unable to face the evidence of such prolonged torment. How long had he been kept in there? And what happened to him… whenever he was taken out? The answer was too sickening and terrifying to ponder.
CHAPTER 37: MORE THAN ENOUGH
The kitchen clock read 5:26 AM.
Axel's hands trembled around his coffee mug, the ceramic long since cooled to room temperature. This was his fifth cup, or maybe his sixth or seventh; he’d lost count. The caffeine buzzed through his system like electricity with nowhere to go.
Across the table, Kane twisted his own mug in slow circles, leaving damp rings on the wood. The kitchen light carved deep shadows into the worry lines that hadn't left his face all night.
“It's been hours,” Axel whispered, setting down his cup to stretch fingers that wouldn't stop trembling. His insides vibrated like a tuning fork—the unholy trinity of sleeplessness, caffeine overdose, and relentless anxiety coursing through his bloodstream. He pushed back his chair and began to pace, the linoleum cold through his socks. “Why would he keep us in the dark like this?”
These were questions he’d been asking all night. Kane's shoulders sagged. “I wish I knew,” he said, the words barely audible.
The house had grown quiet. Luke, Hope, and Tae had surrendered to exhaustion hours ago. Zoe had finally retreated to her bedroom, though Axel doubted she was sleeping. In the living room, the television cast blue shadows across Donald and John, fighting sleep on the sofa. In the corner armchair, Ash sat motionless, trying to disappear into the upholstery, a family member still wearing the careful posture of a visitor.
Axel's phone sat heavy in his pocket, silent for hours since Clint's call. Every few minutes, his fingers twitched toward it, wondering why Angel hadn't reached out. He'd nearly dialed his brother a dozen times but always stopped, thumb hoveringover the screen. What would he even say? Angel might be in no condition for questions or platitudes.
Clint's words echoed in his mind: Cole and Gabe were found. They were all right. But it was what remained unsaid, the careful neutrality in Clint's voice, that made Axel's stomach knot. If everyone were safe, the phone would have rung hours ago.
Axel glanced toward the living room before sinking back into his chair, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What if they can't find Maddy... and Savannah and Abel?” The words caught in his throat. “Or what if when they do, it's already—” He couldn't finish. His eyes burned as he choked out, “If something happens to Maddy... Angel will never...”
“Hey.” Kane's hand found his across the table, warm and steady against Axel's cold fingers. “We don’t know anything yet. The men… they’re capable. Rescuing kids is what they do. They’ll find them.” His grip tightened. “I believe that. We have to keep faith. Things have looked grim before—reallygrim—and we made it through. We may have had some repercussions, but everyone we love came back to us. Maddy, Savannah, and Abel… they’ll come back, too. We have to believe that. We have to believe that God will keep them safe—”
Axel's phone shattered the silence. The ringtone he'd heard a thousand times now sounded alien, urgent. His fumbling fingers nearly dropped it twice before he managed to press it to his ear. “Hello?” The word came out strangled, desperate.
In the doorway, John and Donald materialized like sentinels. Across the table, Kane froze, suspended between heartbeats.
“Axel?”The familiar southern drawl nearly crippled Axel with relief for a moment, just knowing his cowboy was safe.
“Clint…” Axel’s voice shook a little. “What…” He swallowed. “What’s happening? Why didn’t you call sooner?”Did you find the kids? Abel?The questions wouldn’t come as he feared theanswer. He held his breath,unableto breathe as he waited for what felt like an eternity for Clint to respond.
“Maddy is safe,”Clint said.“They’re all safe.”
A shuddered breath escaped Axel, and he wilted deeper into the chair, nearly dropping the phone.
“What?” Kane swallowed. “Is…”
Axel trembled and nodded as he straightened in the chair. “They found them. They’re safe.”
“Thank God,” Donald whispered as he hugged John tightly. “Oh, my God, I was so scared.”
Axel sniffed. “Are you okay?” he asked thickly. “Cochise? Is anyone hurt?”
The brief pause at the other end of the line scared Axel before Clint replied,“We’re okay. A couple of flesh wounds, but nothing to worry about.”
“Promise?” Axel smiled small, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Yeah,”Clint murmured.“I promise.”
“When will you be home?”
“Not for a while yet. We still have a few things to deal with.”
Axel didn’t ask for specifics; he knew what kinds ofthingsthey had to deal with on their jobs. “Just come home as soon as possible.”
