They materialized. They found their target. They left with their target, and no one made a move to stop them. No one was stupid enough. If we had, they would’ve killed us. Everyone felt it in their gut, and I was shook, because the last time I felt this was when my attacker caught me coming into my bedroom, when he pushed me to the bed and covered my mouth with his hand.

But like that time, I would’ve fought back.

After a few minutes, as if we were all afraid to move or say a word, someone broke the seal. “I think they’re gone.”

Then it was chaos after that, but not within me. I could breathe. I just breathed. The other girls started crying.

I mean, they were crying, but they were also pissed. And they were swearing.

And Veronica had sidled up next to Alex.

I pulled my phone out, saw there was no reception, and now knew why Cross hadn’t rolled up.

I asked around, “Anyone have a phone with reception?”

Chapter Fifty-Five

BREN

Cross and the guys arrived three minutes after the masked men left.

We’d called the cops, so it wasn’t too long after they got there when the air lit up with blue and white. Cross swept me up. Jade looked to Jordan. Both seemed tentative with each other, but Jordan pulled her in for a hug. Angeline was eyeing Zellman, and he was eyeing her back. It seemed like a beat later when Blaise drove in with Zeke exploding from his passenger side.

I glanced at Cross. “You called him?”

He nodded, his jaw tight. “He was quiet.”

Oh, whoa. That said everything.

Cross’ arm tightened around me, and he buried his head into my neck. He pressed a kiss there. “Got a text from Zeke.”

“You did?” That wasn’t normal either.

He nodded, his face grim. “Asked if I knew where you were, thought it might be where his brothers were.”

That said a lot. Zeke reaching out to Cross, not a thing. Ever.

Then Cross’ hand tightened around me and he asked, “Why am I seeing Alex Ryerson holding one of Aspen’s friends?”

I grinned and patted his chest. “I’ll fill you in on the way back.”

And that’s what I did.

I gave my statement because Tim Harper getting taken was a big deal. More and more cops were pulling in, but it wasn’t until when a detective broke away from a large group and came over did I realize what really happened.

He was thirty-ish, and tired. A buttoned-down shirt. Gun holster. Badge clipped to his side. He wore jeans and his hair looked raked through. He came right to me and lifted his chin up. “Bren Monroe?”

I nodded.

He pulled out his wallet and gave me his card. It was held between two fingers, and I took it.