“I promise you, baby, any man who ever thought laying a hand on you was a good idea will die painfully and slowly.” Hetilts my chin up, making me meet his eyes. “Ace and I will make sure of it.”
In those hazel depths, I see something that should terrify me—a promise of violence so calculated and cold it doesn’t even register as anger. But instead, I feel a twisted sense of safety wash over me.
26
ACE
Iwatch Keira’s chest rise and fall in sleep, her lashes dark against her cheeks. The tear tracks have dried, but I can see the shadow of pain etched across her face even in unconsciousness. Cyrus sits beside her on the bed, his hand stroking her hair as his eyes meet mine across the room.
We don’t need words. Not for this.
I slip into my office, closing the door with barely a click. My laptop comes to life under my fingers, and I pull up a secure messaging system.
Felix responds immediately.What do you need?
Richard Henderson. Foster parent circa 12 years ago.
While I wait, I contact another source—a hacker who owes me several favors after I removed a problematic client for him last year. I send a similar query through encrypted channels.
Three hours pass. I don’t move except to type, to read, to process. Cyrus brings me coffee but doesn’t speak, understanding this is my domain. This methodical hunt through digital space is where I excel.
My phone vibrates with a text from Felix:Found him.
The attachment contains a comprehensive file. Richard Henderson. Fifty-eight years old. Current address in Boise,Idaho. Property records show a modest three-bedroom home purchased five years ago. Employment history indicates he works as a financial advisor at a local firm.
I scan further down. Married to Elaine Henderson, his second wife. The timestamp on the marriage certificate is eight years old.
The last detail makes my blood freeze in my veins.
Two stepdaughters. Current ages are thirteen and sixteen.
I stare at those numbers, feeling something close to physical illness.Thirteen.Just like Keira was. Different girls, same predator.
My fingers hover over my phone. I need to tell Cyrus, but I also need more information before we move. Birth certificates, school records, any indication that history is repeating itself.
I send another message to Felix.
Need more on the girls. Any CPS reports, school attendance, and medical records.
It’s not a request. It’s a necessity.
The office door flies open, and Cyrus stands there, tension radiating from every line of his body. His eyes lock on my screen. “What did you find?”
I minimize the window showing Henderson’s stepdaughters. “He’s in Boise. Financial advisor. Remarried eight years ago.”
Cyrus’s jaw tightens. “You’re keeping something from me.”
I weigh my options for precisely two seconds before deciding. No point hiding this from him. “He has two stepdaughters now. Thirteen and sixteen.”
“Fuck.” The word explodes from him like a bullet. “We’re leaving tonight. I’ll get the car ready.”
I close my laptop. “No.”
Cyrus whirls on me. “What do you mean, no? There are two girls?—”
“I know exactly what it means,” I cut him off. “And we will handle it. But not like this.”
He stalks forward, leaning over my desk. “Every second we wait?—”