He was never going to let Kimber go. I knew that before the first smug text ever landed. But by insisting I come alone, he handed me exactly what I needed—one location, one building, one moment with everyone under the same roof.
A controlled burn is easier when the fire starts from the inside.
The men haul me through a long corridor, the overhead lights buzzing like dying insects. Every step echoes off concrete and metal, a hollow drumbeat counting down the time I have left before the guys reach me, or death. Dean thinks he holds all the pieces. He has no idea I’ve already scattered them like breadcrumbs behind me.
The door they shove me through groans open—and the sight waiting inside rips me hollow.
Kimber sits in the center of the room beneath a single flickering bulb. The dim yellow light catches in her hair, turning the blonde strands into a tangled halo that does nothing to soften the bruising beneath her eyes or the dried tear streaks on her cheeks. She’s tied to a chair, ankles bound to the legs, wrists pulled tight behind her back. A guard—thick neck, dead eyes—stands by the window, one hand resting on his holstered gun like he’s waiting for any excuse to use it.
The second she sees me, her breath stutters.
“Berk!” she cries out, voice scraping raw.
My chest fractures. It physically hurts to hear her say my name like that—like I’m some kind of lifeline.
“Kimber.” Her name leaves me softer than I ever allow myself to be in front of villains. Too exposed. Too dangerous. But I can’t filter it. “Are you okay?”
She nods too fast. “Yes. I—”
I catch her eyes and shake my head, the slightest, sharpest warning.
This room has ears.
And eyes.
And guns.
She swallows whatever she was going to say, lips snapping shut. Even terrified, she’s smart. Smarter than she should have to be at her age. Smarter than Dean deserves.
There’s another chair in the corner—metal, with bolted legs, deliberately placed beside Kimber like some twisted reunion gift. I know immediately it’s meant for me.
And sure enough, the guards haul me toward it. My boots scrape uselessly across the concrete until one of them kicks my legs out from under me, slamming me down hard enough to send sparks up my spine and bursting behind my eyes. My handsare freed for half a breath—then yanked behind my back again. Zip ties bite down, too tight, chewing into skin until warmth slips free, tracking down my wrists and into my palms.
I don’t flinch.
Pain is information.
Pain is focus.
One of them crams a folded rag between my lips before I can snap my teeth shut, jerking it back so viciously the corners of my mouth split. I taste copper. Fabric. Rage. The gag ties off behind my head, yanking my hair at the roots until tears prick, hot and involuntary.
I inhale through my nose. Slow. Quiet. Controlled.
They can bind my body.
But they will never bind my mind.
When the guard steps back, satisfied with his handiwork, I lift my eyes.
Kimber stares at me, panic quivering at the edges of her composure. Her breathing is too quick, too shallow. She’s holding herself together with pure willpower and fear.
I let my gaze soften, just for her. A quiet promise behind the gag.
I’m here.
I found you.
You’re not alone anymore.