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“We had to get him away from the estate. And it worked, he left an hour ago.”

An hour? So he was long gone. “I’m going in there.”

“What?” The panic in his voice almost had me second guessing everything. I didn’t want him to panic or worry. “No you’re not. Don’t you dare, Whitney. He kidnapped another woman and it’s⁠—”

The line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the black screen. I clicked the side button, tapped the screen, but it was completely dead. “Fuck!” I screamed, chucking the phone as hard as I could into the woods.

He kidnapped another woman? Jesus fucking Christ. My hands were shaking, and I knew Court was going to be so fucking pissed at me when I saw him next but that wasn’t my fault. It was the piece of shit who didn’t charge his phone’s fault, and he was already dead.

I couldn’t leave that woman there. I was so close already.

Fuck. Okay, I had to do this. It had to be now. Thorne was gone. Who knew how long he’d be gone? There wasn’t going to be another clear shot to get that woman out of there.

I braced one hand on the car, scanning my surroundings for the road. It was so goddamn dark out here, but the headlights were enough to illuminate the area, and I could see the bushes the car had crushed on its way here. But that wouldn’t be enough to help me find my way to Thorne’s estate.

I leaned inside the car, crying out in pain when I bent over. My hand went to my side, trying to find whatever was hurting me. I looked down and saw something sticking out of me.

Oh, fuck, that made me want to throw up. It was a…nail? I touched the metal with tentative fingers, seeing how much it might hurt to pull it out. But it looked way too big to be a regular nail. Pinching the tip, I tugged on it gently, then doubled over when the pain increased tenfold, sending a shockwave of agony up the side of my body.

“Oh, fuck,” I panted, dizzy all over again. I closed my eyes and set my forehead on the car door, breathing shakily as I let the wave of nausea pass. “Fuck.”

No. No fucking way was I taking that out right now. I had a feeling that if I tried—or succeeded—I’d pass out. And then I’d be completely fucking useless.

Inhaling deeply through my nose, I let out a shuddering breath, opened my eyes, and searched the car for any kind of light. When I didn’t find one in the back or front seat, I popped the trunk and sifted through a bunch of crap. Nothing. But what if…

I hurried back to the driver’s seat, where the body of the man lay still. I leaned over him and turned the car off, pulling the keys out but leaving the headlights on. He had a few different keychains, and⁠—

“Oh, fuck yes,” I whispered, clicking on the little flashlight. It was a rabbit’s foot with a tiny light in it. I wasn’t sure it was bright enough to lead me anywhere, but it was better than fucking nothing.

My gaze landed on the screwdriver I’d buried in the back of his neck. Reaching forward, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and yanked it from his neck. I might need this, too. I wiped the blood off on his shirt and held onto the tool in one hand, flashlight still attached to the keys in the other.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from the car, followed the broken brush through the trees, and made it back to the road. I ignored the ache in my side, breathing in time with the throbs of pain that accompanied every step I took.

I’d get that fucking money and save that woman or I’d die trying.

THIRTY

I picked my way through the near-dark, the tiny keychain flashlight not great but better than nothing. Why the fuck did Thorne not have a paved drive? My bare feet were getting scraped and bruised to shit, but at least it helped distract me from the pain in my side.

I was grateful Court had me study those photographs. All those blueprints. I was grateful I had a brain that never forgot anything.

When I was close enough that I could see little lights on the dark shape of the enormous house through the trees, I tried to be quieter. The driveway ended in a roundabout that had a fountain in the center, and there was only one car there.

Tom’s car.

Fuck.

I kept my distance from the estate and moved through the brush toward the back, where the vent was located.

My breathing was labored, and having to crouch-walk through the property because the light on the keychain was so dim wasn’t helping the pain in my side. The light bounced over something shiny, and I fell to my knees in relief.

The fucking vent.

Using the screwdriver, I undid all the screws and, quietly, slowly, pulled the opening out and set it on the grass beside me.

Fuck. I had no rope or anything to help me quietly drop down. Putting the screwdriver in my mouth, I swung my legs over and into the opening, braced them on the side, and carefully lowered myself inside, pushing my feet into the opposite wall and trying to silently bring myself down.

It was tight. It was so tight that it made me feel like maybe I had just unlocked some claustrophobic fear. My breaths were echoing back at me, sounding metallic and empty in the narrow space. When my feet touched the bottom, I sank to my hands and knees, then my stomach, and started army crawling.