Page 236 of Safe Word

My heart climbed into my throat.

‘Where is that?’

‘Down the street from Zio’s place.’ He turned the screen off, then on again, thumb moving fast over the display as if he could force the pin to move.

With a litany of curses at this insufferable woman who couldn’t fucking stay put, I pulled out my own phone, fingers already scrolling – and froze.

One voicemail. Unread. Several missed calls.

From her.

I hadn’t heard a single ring.

‘Press that for me,’ I said, shoving it into Matt’s hand. He tapped it, and the car filled with the sound of her voice as I fumbled with the ignition.

As soon as she said the box, our heads whipped towards each other.

And I fucking floored it.

Tyres screamed as we peeled out, headlights carving through the dark, and the smell of burnt rubber followed us down the street.

We hit the first corner. Matt braced against the dash. The city blurred around us, streetlights cutting across the windscreen like a thousand warnings. My pulse threatened to give as the brakes shrieked outside Alessio’s gate.

And I already knew—

She was gone.

Our shoes struck the concrete stairs in sync.

We both halted sharply mid-step when we zeroed in on the small black box resting flush against the front door. Rectangular. A note with my name on it.

Untouched – or made to look that way.

Matt was already on the phone, his voice clipped as he barked into it, talking to his youngest brother. ‘Pull the feed. Street cams. Start with Zio’s area.’

I took a cautious step closer, crouching low. The air seemed heavier this close, as if the box was exhaling something dangerous.

I reached—

Matt’s hand clamped on my shoulder.

‘Let me look first,’ he said quietly, scanning the porch, the doorway, then the roofline above us as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

Right. The Marines.

Some of the tension bled from my spine, but not all.

He dropped into a squat beside me, posture low and steady, eyes darting over the box like he were reading a blueprint. ‘No awkward seams. No visible pressure points.’ His voice had gone flat – all business. ‘No antenna or lens. Doesn’t mean it’s clean.’

His fingers hovered just above it, stopping just shy of the lid.

‘If it’s rigged, it’ll trigger on tilt or lift.’

He stopped. Raised his head.

‘It’s already open,’ I murmured, spotting the magnetic flap that stood slightly to the side.

Urgency clawed at my bones. The longer we waited, the worse off Paula was. I needed to fucking find her. I needed to crush his windpipe – liberate her from the hell she lived in.