Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“This is it, baby.” Matt reached for my hand, finding it and squeezing it. “We’ve got him. We’re going to get your brother out safe, and we’re going to put this fucker behind bars once and for all. It’s over.”
I could barely get any words past the Sahara desert levels of dryness in my mouth. “I hope so” was all I could say. Three simple words that did nothing to reflect the storm of chaos thundering inside my skull. My thoughts were coming in as if I’d pressed the fast-forward button. I kept picturing how scared my brother must have been and then those mental images shifted, changing into a bloody and lifeless Harry sitting underneath those crimson wings, still dripping.
I lowered the window, my stomach threatening to empty itself again.
“What if he’s not there?” I asked as Matt raced past a sign that marked the entrance to Lunar Grove.
“He will be.”
“What if he’s not, Matt?”
Matt’s knuckles paled as he gripped the steering wheel. “Then we’ll find him.”
I didn’t say anything else. Couldn’t. The words kept getting lodged in my throat. I really wanted to ask, “What if we find him and we’re too late?” but there was no need to hear that answer.
The road ahead of us changed, turning into a gravelly path instead of the paved street we were just on. The car kicked up a dust cloud of rocks and debris as Matt pushed down on the gas. The sharp clacks of pebbles hitting the windshield filled the space, as if it were raining outside. The trees started to grow closer and closer together, and the cabins began to appear, sprinkled among the trees as if they’d always been there, growing up from the ground with the saplings that now towered over them.
Matt slowed down. “It’s just up ahead. That cabin over there, with the broken mailbox.”
“Park here,” I said, surprised at my ability to speak. I unholstered my gun and got out of the car, barely waiting for it to come to a full stop. Matthew got out after me, taking the spot at my side.
“Baby, we’ve got this, okay?” He spoke in a low tone as we approached the cabin, branches and leaves crunching underneath us.
All I could do was nod. This felt like walking straight into a lion’s den while wearing that damn Gaga meat dress. We didn’t even have a plan, didn’t have any time to come up with one. I felt wholly unprepared, and yet there was no other choice but to keep moving. Matt being next to me was a small comfort that I clung onto as if it were a headboard floating away from the Titanic.
“Look, look, Matt.” I pointed to the car that was parked off the driveway, next to the house and behind a few thin trees. “It’s the red Honda, the one from the surveillance video you showed me.”
“It is.” Matt and I scanned the property as we hid behind a few clustered trees, not seeing any other signs of life beside the beat-up car. The cabin itself didn’t seem well taken care of at all. The roof needed a replacement, and the dark green paint was chipped and stained with rain and dirt. All the curtains were drawn shut, and no sounds could be heard except for the constant chirping of birds and rustling coming from a couple of squirrels.
There was no yelling for help, no shouting, no crying.
“Do we fan out?” I asked. Surrounding the cabin could offer us an advantage or it could make us more vulnerable. There wasn’t time to weigh out the choices, so I deferred to Matt, who was normally quicker on his feet, following instinct when my instinct only shouted to run in, guns blazing.
Harry. We’re coming for you.
“No, we stay together.” Matt motioned toward the backside of the cabin. It was a heavily wooded area on the top of a sloping hill, the trees so close together that it was impossible to see any neighbors. There was a deck that was covered in cobwebs and dead leaves, the wood appearing rotten in some corners. “Let’s try going around the back. I think I see a broken window.”
He was right. We got closer, being as silent as a dead breeze, and could see a window with thick shards sticking to the doorframe. There was duct tape spread across the gap, but that didn’t stop my hand from squeezing through a gap, looking for the lock. I moved my hand around, unable to see anything on the other side.
Slow. Slow.
“Hurry,” Matt whispered.
“I’m trying.”
Where the fuck was this lock? It had to be—there. My fingers found the cold narrow steel of the lock. I went to turn it.
I froze. Something brushed against my hand. My eyes widened. Matt raised his gun, reading the expression on my face. He aimed it at the door and looked at me, mouthing the next sequence of numbers.