Page 109 of Beneath the Surface

The ceiling. The water stain that looked like Italy. The shadows from the streetlight.

All of it tilting and whirling and fading.

Her grandmother’s face appeared in her mind—those blue eyes so much like Quinn’s own.Be brave, Quinny.

Dax’s face. His voice.I love you.

Her father’s smile from the video.Make him pay.

And then everything went dark.

CHAPTER 20

Dax was staring at his phone when it rang at 11:58 PM.

He’d been staring at it for the past three hours, ever since Quinn had hung up on him after their last call—the one where she’d said she needed space, needed time, needed to breathe without him suffocating her.

He’d been sitting in the cabin’s dark living room with a glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched, his phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline, wanting to call her back. Wanting to apologize. Wanting to take back every controlling word, every “watch me,” every decision he’d made for both of them without asking what she needed.

Wanting to fix this before it was too late.

When the phone finally rang, his heart lurched with hope. Quinn. She was calling him back. They could talk, could work through this, could—

But the number on the screen wasn’t Quinn’s.

It was Nathan’s.

Dax’s stomach dropped even before he answered. “Nathan?”

“Dax—” Nathan’s voice was wrong. Slurred. Pained. “Quinn—they took her—I couldn’t—”

The words hit Dax like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs.

“What?” He was already moving, already grabbing his keys, his weapon, his jacket. “Nathan, what happened? Where are you?”

“Quinn’s house. I was—there was glass breaking—I went to check—” Nathan’s breath hitched. “They hit me from behind. When I came to, she was—Dax, she’s gone. They took her.”

Dax’s vision went white around the edges. His hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped his keys.

No. No no no no—

This was his worst nightmare. The thing he’d been trying to prevent, the reason he’d kept her at the cabin, the reason he’d tried so hard to keep her safe.

And he’d failed.

She’d left because of him. Left the safety of the cabin because he’d driven her away. And now Wheeler had her.

“I’m on my way.” Dax’s voice didn’t sound like his own—it was flat, hard, the voice of a man barely holding onto control. “Call 911. Call Carson. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Dax, I’m sorry—I should have—”

“Just stay conscious, Nathan. I’m coming.”

Dax hung up and ran for his truck.

The drive from the cabin to Quinn’s house usually took forty minutes, following the speed limit and taking the curves with caution.

Dax made it in seventeen.