Chapter 16: The hunt begins

Carter was gone.

I couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Someone had him.

And I had no idea if he was still alive.

Michael paced the small storage room, running a hand through his hair. "We have to be smart about this."

"Smart?" I snapped. "We don't have time for smart. We don't even know if he's still breathing!"

Michael's jaw tightened. "And charging in blind will only get us both killed."

I hated that he was right.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. "Okay. Where do we start?"

Michael grabbed his laptop from the shelf, typing furiously. "The number that texted you—it was encrypted, but I might be able to trace its origin."

I watched the screen anxiously as lines of code flashed across it.

Minutes passed, each one heavier than the last.

Then Michael froze. "Got something."

I stepped closer. "Where?"

"Not a full address, but a location pinged near the docks." He turned to me. "It's an abandoned shipping yard."

A cold dread settled in my chest.

The docks.

Damien used them for illegal shipments all the time.

If Carter was there…

"We need to move," I said.

Michael hesitated. "We should plan first."

"We don't have time."

Michael exhaled sharply. "Fine. But we go in carefully."

I nodded, but in my mind, I was already moving.

Already preparing for the worst.

The docks were silent when we arrived.

Too silent.

Michael parked a block away, out of sight. We slipped through the shadows, keeping low.

A single warehouse stood at the far end of the yard. Lights flickered inside.

Someone was there.

I pulled out my knife.

Michael grabbed my wrist. "We don't even know how many there are."

I shook him off. "Then let's find out."

We crept closer.

Through a broken window, I saw them—three men, all armed.

And in the middle of the room…

Carter.

Tied to a chair, blood dripping from his temple.

My stomach twisted.

He was alive.

But barely.

Michael whispered, "We need a distraction."

I nodded. "Got an idea."

Before he could stop me, I grabbed a rock and hurled it across the yard.

It hit a metal crate with a loud clang.

The men tensed, turning toward the noise.

That was all I needed.

I slipped inside.

Heart pounding.

Blood rushing.

I reached Carter just as he lifted his head.

His swollen eyes widened. "Winnie?"

"Shh," I whispered, cutting through the ropes.

The moment he was free, a gun cocked behind me.

I froze.

"Bad move," a voice drawled.

I turned slowly.

One of Damien's men.

Gun pointed at my head.

Michael was outside.

I was alone.

And I had just walked into a trap.

The man smirked. "You really thought you could sneak in here?"

I didn't answer.

Didn't breathe.

Carter was barely conscious.

I needed to get us out—fast.

The man took a step closer. "Damien's gonna love this."

I lunged.

Knife flashing.

The gun fired.

Pain exploded in my shoulder.

But I didn't stop.

I drove the knife into his side, twisting hard.

He gasped, stumbling back.

I grabbed Carter, dragging him toward the exit.

More gunshots.

Michael burst in, firing.

Two men dropped.

The third ran.

Michael grabbed me. "We have to go!"

I nodded, biting back the pain.

We ran.

Out of the warehouse.

Into the night.

The car was waiting.

Michael threw Carter in the back.

I collapsed into the seat, blood soaking my shirt.

Michael gunned the engine.

Tires screeched.

We sped away.

Back at the safe house, Michael patched me up.

Carter lay on the couch, weak but alive.

I winced as Michael tightened the bandage. "That was reckless," he muttered.

"But it worked."

He sighed. "Barely."

Carter groaned. "You two always fight this much?"

I let out a breathless laugh. "Only when we're not dying."

Michael smirked. "Which is never."

For the first time in days, I felt something close to hope.

We had Carter.

We were alive.

But the fight wasn't over yet.