Page 70 of Protecting Her Heart

Bile rises in my throat at the idea of him watching me every night. I bite my tongue in an attempt to keep my expression neutral.

“I can’t bring them with me? We could stop at my house before we leave.”

“No. The black one doesn’t like me. He growls. He can’t come with us.”

My eyes close as a sigh falls from my chest. I always wondered what Koda was staring at in the backyard. He’d sit there for several minutes, unmoving, staring into the woods behind my house. He was staring at Gabe. God, I want to throw up.

“What about clothes? I’ll still need to pack some things for wherever we’re going.”

“No, you’ll be okay. We’re supposed to sit here and wait. Then, we can leave.”

“Wait for what?”

Gabe frowns like he doesn’t understand my question. “I don’t know.” He lapses into silence, a frown marring his face. Why would he not know the next step in the plan? Even if he’s not the leader, I would think he’d know exactly what’s going on.

Except, if his only goal was to have me by his side, then his part in this plan is complete. And if my intuition is correct, the leader wouldn’t want Gabe to know too much about what he’s planning. Gabe’s childlike mind would more than likely be a hindrance rather than an asset. The problem with this revelation is I can’t figure out what happens next.

What does the leader want from me?

Gabe perks up, looking toward the doorway. He must’ve heard a noise outside.

My heart rate increases with the realization that his partner is here. If Gabe is being manipulated, that means the partner is the one I need to be afraid of. Gabe could hurt me just based on his size alone, but I don’t think he will. As much as I hate to admit it, I genuinely believe he has no idea the consequences he’s set into motion.

This partner knows. He knows exactly what he’s manipulated Gabe into. There’s no other way Gabe would have been able to accomplish all the things he did.

Footsteps echo from the hallway, giving away exactly where this guy is as he walks around the house. I’d had a small moment of relief with Gabe, relying on my intuition that he wasn’t going to hurt me. Now, the fear is spiking, and I’m trying my damndest to figure out how I’m going to get out of this.

At least Gabe didn’t cuff my hand again.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Gabe says, standing from the bed, his wide body hiding the person standing in the doorway. “Are we going to leave soon?”

“Mm-hmm. Just need to do a few things before we’ll be ready,” a female voice says.

I frown, surprised it’s a woman—one who seems familiar for some reason.

She walks around Gabe, and my whole body goes into shock.

“Michelle?”

39

BEN

Irun my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands. It’ll be a miracle if I still have hair when Sara is back in my arms.

It’s been five fucking hours since I last talked to her.

Five long, tense, stressful hours and we have nothing to show for the suffering.

Cooper isn’t anywhere closer to figuring out who took her. We’ve all watched the security footage from the alley to see if we recognized the car. The person driving was obscured, the plates were stolen, and the car was a dead end. A silver Toyota is one of the most common cars on the road, so there was no way to track it from the alleyway.

Adam and Nolan have been taking turns pacing across my parents’ living room while my mom has been fussing over everyone. She refuses to sit down, choosing to bake or bring us tea or anything else we don’t really want.

I don’t know what to do. I go from the backyard with the dogs, to inside, to staring at my phone, praying for a call or text or anything from Sara saying she’s okay.

Fuck, I just need her to be okay.

Getting up from the dining room table, I walk back outside. The dogs are all under the umbrella, lying in the shade without a care in the world. I sit down next to them, doling out pets to each one. Without the dogs, I probably would’ve gone insane by now. The stack of bricks sitting on my chest would’ve crushed me from the guilt I carry. Every time I think about what I did, I want to punch something. Namely myself.

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