I call 911.
It rings once before the dispatcher answers. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“My girlfriend has been taken,” I say, my voice flat and controlled.
My girlfriend.The word echoes. It took me all this time to define us.
“I have reason to believe the man who took her has a history of stalking and kidnapping. I’m en route to her lastknown location now. I need officers dispatched immediately.”
There’s a pause before she says, “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Sebastian Locke. I can provide the address. Her name is Ivy Hart. Last known location is her father’s house. She was supposed to have lunch with her dad, but he was delayed. She stopped answering calls. Her driver is unreachable. Then I received a phone call from a man named Silas Reeve.” I repeat his chilling words as I speed through the city.
The operator’s tone sharpens. “Okay, Mr. Locke. I need you to slow down and?—”
“I’m driving the speed limit,” I lie, eyes locked on the road as I cut around a slow-moving SUV.
“That’s not what I meant.” She pauses a moment. “Are you armed?”
“No.”
It’s the truth. But that doesn’t make me any less dangerous.
“Give me her address.”
I rattle it off, cursing as I hit a red light.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Officers are being dispatched to the residence now. Stay outside until they arrive.”
“I understand,” I say.
I end the call.
I do understand... but I’m going in anyway.
My phone is already in my hand again, fingers moving without hesitation.
Elliott answers on the first ring, like he hasn’t put his phone down since he left my office. “What’s up, Sebastian?”
“I got a call from Silas,” I say. “He has Ivy.”
The words echo even after I say them.
Elliott’s inhale is quiet but immediate—like a man who hates being right. “Where are you?”
“En route to her father’s house.”
“Don’t go in alone.”
“I’m not waiting.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Elliott says, “I’m pulling every address tied to the Reeves family—rentals, LLC holdings, vacation properties, storage units. You’ll have it in two minutes.”
