Page 65 of Gunnar

“I’m not going to calm the fuck down!” I scream, whirling on him, my gun still in my hand. “This fucking psychopath has been right under our noses the entire fucking time! Watching, waiting, and planning! We missed it! We fucking missed it!”

I slam my fist into the cabinet, the wood splintering as pain shoots up my arm. It’s a dull ache compared to the crushing weight of failure and the suffocating certainty that she’s gone. And worse, that she’s experiencing the horrors I saw on that website.

“And now he fucking has her!” My voice breaks, the rage collapsing into desperation. “He has her, and we don’t know where, and we don’t know what he’s going to do, and I promised her! I promised her I would keep her safe!”

My strength leaves me in a rush, and the gun falls from my hand as I sink to my knees. Horrors from the website flash through my thoughts, unbidden and unstoppable, playing in my mind like a snuff film: Devyn being violated. Arranged like a doll, with lifeless eyes that have experienced things she’ll never recover from. Her throat slit after he’s destroyed her. Those were his fantasies on screen, but now they’re no longer a distant possibility.

The thought breaks something inside me, a dam bursting. On my hands and knees on the kitchen floor, in a puddle of coffee, my body shakes with violent wails I can’t control. I’m not a soldier or a protector. I’m a man who has lost the only thing in this world that matters.

“Fucking find her,” I sob, the words torn from my chest. “Everyone, dig through fucking everything. We have to fucking find her.”

I look up at Hawk and then Jagger, helping Damon to his feet. Damon struggles to find his footing, his face ashen with guilt and drugs. “Please,” I beg, as they all see the depths of my devastation. “Please find her. I’ll do anything. Anything. Just find her.”

Damon struggles to walk toward me, his movements clumsy and eyes wet with tears. He kneels beside me, his hand finding my shoulder, and he makes a promise I know he can’t keep, but I cling to anyway. “We’ll get her back.” His voice is rough with emotion. “I won’t fail you again. I won’t fail her again. We’ll find her, Gunnar. We have to.”

I look at him, at the man who was supposed to protect her, who let the wolf in sheep’s clothing walk through the door. As much as he’s thinking it, I don’t hate him. I know he would lay down his life for her, the same as I would for Mackenzi. I don’t blame him, either, because I blame myself. This was my failure, my blindness.

Of all the threats we considered and all the angles we analyzed, we never dove that deep into Jake. His background check was clean. He was present and trusted, too obvious. It was the perfect hiding place for a monster—her inner circle in plain sight, the one place no one would think to look. And now, Devyn is paying for our negligence.

I force myself to stand, my legs unsteady and hands still shaking. I pick up my gun, holster it, and I look at my brothers. “Mattis.” I speak into the phone, my voice steady and cold as I compartmentalize and retake control of a broken man. “I need everything on Jake. Every email, every phone call, every financial transaction for the past eight years. Find out where he grew up and where his parents are buried. Everything. We need to know where he would take her.”

“On it,” Mattis announces, the urgency in his voice matching my own as his clacking keys spill through the speaker.

I’m coming, baby girl…

I will find you.

And when I do, I will make Jake suffer in ways that will make what we did to Colton look like mercy.

I wake slowly, my eyelids heavy and head pounding with a rhythm that feels like someone is hammering nails into my skull. My mouth is dry and cottony, my tongue thick and uncooperative. For a moment, I think I’m hungover, and the consequences of too much wine have me on the verge of death. The moment passes quickly when I realize this isn’t my bed. The sheets smell wrong and are too scratchy.

When I try to sit up, the room spins. Nausea rolls through my stomach as bile rises in my throat, and I force myself to move. Carefully, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. They feel heavy and disconnected, like they’re dragging behind me. My bare feet touch the floor—it’s icy concrete—and the shock of it pulls me further from the fog trying to drag me back to sleep.

Jake…

The memories crash over me like a wave, and I relive every moment of his betrayal. “Oh God… Damon.”

Panic surges through my chest, and I struggle to breathe. I push to my feet, intending to run. But my body is still sluggish, and my leg drags heavily behind me. I look down through my haze and realize there is a cuff fastened around my ankle. The cold metal rests just above the bone and is heavy against my skin. I grab at it and notice the thick, industrial chain welded to a bolt on the floor. I’m chained like an animal. Like property.

My panic explodes into full-blown terror. I claw at the cuff around my ankle, my fingernails scraping against metal, searching for a latch or a weakness. Anything. It’s smooth and seamless, other than the engaged lock. I pull at the chain, tugging with everything I’ve got, feeling it bite into my ankle. Yanking harder, desperation gives me strength I didn’t know I possessed. With my fingers wrapped tightly around the links, I pull until my palms burn and my shoulders ache, but there is no give.

“Help!” I scream, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable. I know it’s useless. I can only imagine that Jake brought me somewhere isolated, where no one can hear me. But I scream anyway, because the alternative is accepting that Jake has me and that no one is coming. “Help me! Someone!”

Heavy footsteps thud against the floor outside the room, and I freeze. My heart stops, then starts again at a gallop, thumping against my ribs so hard I can feel it in my throat. The harsh soles approach, deliberate and slow, and I turn toward the sound, my body tense, my mind racing through possibilities. Fight. Flight. Beg. Bargain.

The door opens, light spilling in from the hallway, and I see his silhouette first. Broad shoulders and a familiar stance of a man I once called a friend fill the frame. He steps into the room, flipping on the light, illuminating his face as I stare up at him in terror.

A tear falls from my eye, hot and humiliating, tracking down my cheek before I can stop it.

“Mmmmm, my love,” he whispers. His voice is the same as always—warm, professional, and comforting—but now I hear the evil intent within it. He reaches down, his thumb brushing across my cheek to wipe away the tear with a gentleness that makes my skin crawl. “Don’t cry. You don’t need to be scared. This is your destiny… to be with me.”

I stare at him, struggling to process his words and unable to speak. Destiny? He thinks this is my destiny. He thinks drugging me, chaining me to the floor, and stealing me from my home is romantic and fated. “J…” I manage, my voice cracking. “Jake…”

“Yes,” he says, smiling, and the expression transforms his face into a monster who looks nothing like the man I know. “It’s me. It’s always been me, Devyn. Watching you. Loving you. Waiting for you to see what was right in front of you.”

He kneels before me, bringing us eye to eye, and there’s madness in his gaze—obsession that has festered for years, hidden beneath the guise of friendship. “I have beautiful plans for you,” he continues, his hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, “for us. A life together, finally. No more pretending, no more hiding, no more sharing you with the world.”

Every word that comes from his mouth only makes me more terrified. Beautiful plans? A life together? He’s talking about me like this chain binding me to the floor is a mere formality, because I’m already his.