I’d made Rhett promise to be careful and he swore he would, but that didn’t make me feel any better. Fear had settled into my bones and dogged my every step. There’d already been too much loss.

I wanted to curl into the fetal position and pretend none of this had happened. But that would accomplish nothing.

My eyes burned from tears waiting to fall as I thought about how terrified Erik and Jan must have been in their last moments. My chest felt like it had been crushed beneath an avalanche. The tendons in my hands ached from furiously typing, but I didn’t know how else I could help.

Lockdown got real this time. I wasn’t allowed to leave the panic room. No one would know if I tucked myself into a ball and sobbed. But what good would it do me? None.

The time for mourning was after everyone was safe. Until then, I’d hold it together and dig deeper, try to find answers.

As I put my fingers back on the keyboard, an instant message popped up from a chat service I rarely used but had never bothered to uninstall.

---

Heath: I really fucked up, Ari. I shouldn’t have tried to fix this on my own.

Ari: Where are you?

Heath: I fucked up and we’re all paying the price. I’m sorry.

Ari: Just tell me where you are. We can help you.

Heath: No one can help me now. It’s time to face facts.

Ari: DON’T YOU DARE QUIT ON ME!

---

I yelled the words as I typed them.

---

Heath: I’m sorry.

Ari: LET ME HELP YOU!

---

But he didn’t reply. No little dots popped up in the dialogue box to show him typing. And then thirty seconds later, the program showed he was off-line.

His phone. He has to be on his phone. My fingers flew as I ran the trace. Heath might have closed the app, but his phone was on just long enough for me to get the location.

I sucked in a breath when the address popped up.

My dad’s house.

Heath was home?

It didn’t make sense. I tapped Rhett’s contact, but there was no answer. Before I could leave a voice mail, another call interrupted, and I looked down at the screen.

Unknown Number.

My hand shook at the knowledge who was probably on the other end, but I forced myself to answer the call. “Hello?”

“You want to see your brother and your father alive again? Or do you want their heads delivered next?”

My stomach twisted at the visual. My brother and father’s eyes as lifeless as Erik’s. I gagged.

“What do you want, Carlos?”

“If you’re as smart as I’ve always assumed, you already know exactly where I am, so I’ll tell you when you get here. Bring your trusty little laptop. If you call Rhett Hennessy, I swear he’ll die before he can get out of the airport parking lot.”

It seemed like every cell in my body trembled with fear. No, terror. There was a difference I’d never truly appreciated until now.

When I didn’t respond, Carlos kept talking.

“If you’re not at your father’s house, alone, in forty-five minutes, I’ll personally slit their throats. You want them to live out this day, you won’t be late.”

“Why are you doing this?” My voice shook, but I managed to get the question out.

It didn’t matter, though—no one heard it. Carlos had hung up on me.

He had my dad and my brother. My only family, both in the hands of a psychopath.

Logic told me that I shouldn’t go. I couldn’t go. It was suicide.

But logic’s role in this decision was overridden by terror. Rhett tore himself apart for not answering his father’s phone calls when he had no idea what his father was facing. How could I live with myself knowing Carlos had my family and I did nothing?

I couldn’t.

It didn’t matter that my father might not remember any of this, or that my brother might be a dirty cop. There was no way I was going to let them die while I sat locked in a safe room where nothing and no one could touch me.

I shoved the terror aside and considered the problem before me.

How do I get to my dad’s house in less than forty-five minutes?