Lily’s signal blinks on the screen in Luke’s truck, and then it disappears.
Every part of me goes cold.
“Floor it,” I tell Luke, getting my phone out to pull up the tracker I installed in Lily’s boots. “They got my girl.”
81
LILY
The drive is maybe fifteen minutes, I think, but I lose track of time somewhere between the second turn and the moment Kelly shoves a hood over my head. My tactical mind tries to count turns, estimate speed, map the route—but the adrenaline crash hits hard and everything blurs together.
The truck finally stops. Kelly drags me out, and I stumble. My hands are zip-tied in front of me. The hood comes off and I'm staring at a warehouse—old, isolated, the kind of place that doesn't show up on any map that matters.
Kelly shoves me through a side door into a large open space. Concrete floor. High ceilings with exposed beams. A few windows near the roofline, too high to reach. One exit behind me—the door we just came through. Another on the far side, maybe sixty feet away, but Kelly positions himself between me and both doors.
No furniture. No cover. Just open space and Kelly blocking my only way out.
Backing up to put distance between us, I force myself to breathe. To think. Mason doesn’t have a way to find me, so I have to help myself.
Kelly locks the door behind us and turns to face me. His expression is agitated—not calm, not controlled. Desperate.
Fuck.
Desperate men make mistakes, but they're also unpredictable.
“Where’s my sister?” My voice is raspy—I don’t know if it’s because of fear or because of the screaming. All I know is I need to buy myself time, so I have to get him talking.
“Where do you think she is?” He looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“I thought she was dead.” I glare at him. “You shot her.”
“I got a lot of shit for that too.” He shakes his head. “She was a lot of trouble anyway, and not that pretty. It was just as well. Not that Turner saw it that way.”
I lose it and shout at him. “Is she alive?”
“Fuck no.” He starts to advance toward me. “She died the day you got away.”
Slumping, I close my eyes. I knew he had to be playing me. Still—the hope. It’s like losing her all over again. "When's Turner going to join this party?"
Kelly laughs—sharp, bitter. "Turner? Turner doesn't know you're here, sweetie."
My eyes fly open. "What?"
"Turner thinks you died thirteen years ago." Kelly points at me. "You were supposed to be dead. Gone. But then you show up here, inhistown, with that fucking barcode on your wrist. It’s a good thing I'm the one who saw you."
He stops pacing and looks at me, his eyes wild. "Do you know what happens if Turner finds out I let you escape? If he finds out Ilostyou once and you came back?" His voice rises. "He'll kill me. He'll put a bullet in my head for being careless with the cargo. No, he thinks you died with your sister."
My mind races. Turner doesn't know I'm here. This isn't Turner's play—it's Kelly's. He's acting independently, out of self-preservation. Which means no one is coming to check on him. No one knows where we are.
Mason will come. I don’t know how, but I know he will.
"So what's your plan?" I ask, trying to buy time. "Kill me and hope Turner never finds out I was here?"
"That's exactly the plan." Kelly's voice is flat now, resigned. "You disappear. No body, no evidence, no connection to me. Turner never knows who you were. My mess cleaned up."
He takes a step closer.
I shrink back.