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When I’m close to giving up all hope, Dalton sends another photo of my sweet Sophie, and I nearly hurl when I see she looks even worse than before. However, this time it’s not a closeup picture. I can see more of what’s behind her and notice a sculpture I’ve seen dozens of times before. Recognition flashes across my face.
“Holy. Shit.” I breathe out as relief floods through me.
“What is it?” Liam asks.
I take my phone to him and show off the picture. “Sophie,” he says, defeated, but then I tell him to look closer. Pinching the screen, he zooms into the background.
“Holy fuck!” Liam slams his hand on my back. “Is that what I think it is?”
At this point, Hunter comes over and looks at the picture too.
“What the hell is that?” He narrows his eyes on the screen.
For the first time all night, I feel hopeful.
“That’s a goddamn black dildo sculpture, and it just saved the fucking day,” I say.
“What does that even mean?” Hunter asks, thoroughly confused.
“It means we know exactly where the fuck she is,” Liam tells him, taking the gun out of his pants and chambering a round. Now that we know where she is, we have to go get her as quickly as possible.
“Dude, where?” he asks, and I can see he’s growing anxious like the rest of us.
“That motherfucker is right across the street. Kilan has been trying to sell the house for the past few months and has all these weird-ass sculptures inside. It’s shaped like a giant dick with a mushroom head. I’ve only seen that big dildo-looking sculpture once in my life, and it was in that house. It can’t be a coincidence. He’s probably been spying on us from there for weeks.”
Hunter’s eyes widen. “Seriously? She’s that close?”
“Yes, and we can’t waste any more time. Dalton probably has no idea the mistake he just made, and we need to take advantage now,” Liam instructs, grabbing another gun from his duffle bag. He tries to hand it to me, but I refuse it before he tucks it into the back of his pants, and we walk out of the back door. Now, he’s double loaded.
I crack my knuckles, ready to beat in Dalton’s face until he’s unrecognizable.
I’m coming, Sophie. I’m on my way, baby. Just hold on a little longer.
“We need to go through the back in case he’s watching the front of the house. Mason, keep messaging him so he’s occupied,” Liam tells us as we follow him. He leads us across our neighbors’ backyards until we’re six houses down. We come around the side of a house, and then Liam crosses the street.
“Shit,” he whispers under his breath. “The fences.”
“Let’s go to the next block and cut through the yard that’s connected to Kilan’s backyard. We’ll need a solid plan, though.” I’m worried as hell that this is all going to backfire, and I know they can hear it in my voice by the expressions on their faces.
I pull out my phone and text Dalton with hopes to do nothing more than amuse and distract him. He seems to eat up the fact that I’m worried as fuck about Sophie. Having power over me and being able to control the situation is something his brother loved to do, too. It’s what ultimately resulted in his death, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Dalton ends up the same way.
Mason: You don’t have to do this. Let her go and take me instead. I’m the one you have the real problem with anyway. She didn’t do anything.
Dalton: That’s where you’re wrong. Now which should I cut off first? Her fingers or toes?
Mason: If you let her go, you get me. Isn’t that what you wanted all along anyway? Or better yet, we can forget that any of this happened and all walk away.
Dalton: Too late. I’m having way too much fun with her…and you.
Mason: You’re going to end up like your brother if you don’t give her back…in one fucking piece.
Dalton: None of this would’ve happened if you weren’t a killer.
I want to argue with him. I want to tell him it wasn’t my fucking gun. I wasn’t the one looking for a fight by pulling the trigger, but he wouldn’t believe me anyway. He wants nothing but to seek his revenge, and he went after the only person who means anything to me—Sophie.
He sends another text that has me seeing red.
Dalton: Just remember, her blood will be on YOUR hands. You’ll never find her, not on time at least.
We jog down the street, and I see Dalton’s car parked on the next block.
“Fuck,” I say. “It’s his car. What’s the plan?”
Liam responds by taking his gun from the back of his waistband, and without warning, he pulls the trigger and shoots out two of the tires, and that’s when I realize he has a silencer on the end. My eyes widen in shock. Liam doesn’t play.
