Page 128 of Painted Truths

Neither he nor Cade knows for sure what happened the night I left home, but I'm sure they have an apparent understanding, considering what came in the period afterwards.

I lived with the North family until I came into my inheritance at eighteen. Nate practically lived there, too, for almost our entire teen years. Both of us were openly envious of the beautiful family from which our best friend came.

Having had too many nightmares to number, Caden had gone to his father. Being an incredibly perceptive man, though more often than not playing dumb just for the hell of it, Sutton North had sought a sex therapist.

Ergo, I'm sure they are all aware, but we’ve never openly voiced the words.

"What do you need?" My pragmatic friend is at my shoulder, concern dripping from his features.

Just then, my phone rings. I almost don't answer it until I see Lottie's name on the screen. She never calls, though my little sister never stops.

Swiping the button across, she launches into a tirade that chills me to my marrow.

"Henry, Mila's been taken. She went to study at school yesterday evening, but she never made it there. I've checked with everyone and had the school run through their CCTV footage."

This is all sounding far too familiar.

"They said a man in a silver SUV pulled up beside her after her driver dropped her at the school entrance. They exchanged some words, and she shouted at him before giving him the middle finger."

In the face of it all, I can't help but smirk. My sister is a force to be reckoned with, even at the tender age of sixteen.

"The stranger got out of his car, hit her across the back of her head and—" She breaks off in hysterics before eventually choking out, "My baby girl. Henry, what am I going to do!"

"Lottie, calm down." Her sobs get even louder, so I cut the bullshit. "Charlotte." My voice is stern, reminiscent of my father's, as I attempt to get her under control. "I've got this, okay. I've got this. Calm down, hang tough. I'll keep you in the loop. I already know exactly where she is."

Okay, so maybe not exactly, but I’ve got a hunch.

Her response is barely intelligible in her distraught state, but somehow, she chokes out an "Okay."

Promptly facing Alex, I grasp his arm, putting pressure on his bicep, until he meets my eyes. "Did she bring them home?"

"Th-them?"

"Liv and Mila. They’re both missing. Taken by that wanker, from the sounds of it."

Nate stiffens beside me, his lowly muttered profanity drawing my gaze. I know he's had a soft spot for Mila since meeting her last year, bonding over their mutual love of the old English Classics.

"I've called a friend of mine who handles issues of a sensitive nature for the right price. No police. We can get this sorted and both girls back with minimal intrusion and still keep the media hounds out of it."

He meets my eyes. "You know if it leaks, this shit will be front-page news for weeks, months, even. Neither woman wants that, especially if…"

He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to. And I know if either Liv or my baby sister have been touched, I will kill this fucker with my bare hands.

* * *

It takes several hours, which is way more time than I wanted to wait before making a move. But eventually, Nate's contact, Jesse Ramirez, an American ex-special forces sniper who runs his own private sector retrieval team, Elite Forces, or just Elite, as he's insisted, has given the all-clear.

His team consists of two men called Bull and Joel, and a woman, Billie, all suited, booted, and kitted with cutting-edge technology, the likes of which I couldn't have imagined.

Jesse has done his homework, having located floor plans of the mansion I grew up in. Even going as far as having infrared eyes in the sky, confirming the girls are indeed being held within those walls.

The Elite foursome has agreed to allow me, Alex, and Nate to accompany them to the outskirts of the building. It's a hard-won agreement, but I need to get to the only important women in my life as soon as possible. My own safety doesn't even come into it in my need to be reunited with them.

Nate is quick to remind Jesse that he’s an excellent shot—a product of his stellar upbringing.

Jesse huffs out a laugh. “How could I forget? You can out-shoot me on a really good day. I’ve seen it.”

Nate nods darkly, momentarily thrown into some unwanted reminisce or other, but he quickly pulls himself together as, on the way to my childhood home, Jesse lays it all out for us.