Chapter 10: The Storm
The rain began to fall in heavy, blinding sheets as we sped north on Interstate 95. The storm was a torrential downpour, turning the highway into a slick, treacherous black mirror. Dad’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, pushing the truck to its absolute limits.
In the passenger seat, I was on the phone with the state police, frantically trying to reach my mother.
"Straight to voicemail," I sobbed, dropping the phone onto my lap. "The storm must have knocked out the cell towers in the mountains, or she’s asleep. Why didn't I send a police escort with them?"
"We didn't know, Emily," Dad said, his eyes glued to the road. "Do not let the panic win. Focus on the mission. Ruiz has state troopers converging on the hotel, but with this weather, their response time is crippled."
"How did he do this?" I cried out, the injustice of it all tearing at my sanity. "He had thirty-two years! He was supposed to rot!"
"He had help," Dad replied grimly. "Linda. She made that phone call to you to misdirect us. She wanted us chasing Vance and the USB drive. She sacrificed her own freedom to buy Ryan the time and distraction he needed. It was a coordinated strike."
The realization hit me like a physical blow. The Bennett family was a poison that refused to be cured.
Three agonizing hours later, we tore off the highway and up the winding mountain road leading to the secluded lodge where my mother had taken Ava. The storm was raging at its peak, lightning illuminating the dense pine trees like jagged strobe lights.
As we rounded the final bend, my worst fears were realized.
The heavy wooden gate at the entrance of the lodge was smashed open, splintered pieces of wood scattered across the mud. Parked at erratic angles near the main cabin were two vehicles: my mother’s silver sedan, and a stolen state corrections transport van.
"He's here," I choked, unbuckling my seatbelt before the truck even came to a complete stop.
"Wait!" Dad commanded, grabbing my arm. He reached into the center console and pulled out a heavy, matte-black Glock 19. He pressed it firmly into my hands. "Safety is off. One in the chamber. You do not hesitate, Emily. You understand me? If you see him, you put him down."
I gripped the cold steel. I was no longer the girl crying under a blanket. I was a mother protecting her cub. I nodded.
We moved out into the freezing rain. Dad drew his own weapon, taking the lead as we approached the main cabin. The front door was wide open, swaying violently in the wind.
We stepped inside. The cabin was dark, the power lines clearly cut. The only light came from the flashes of lightning outside. Furniture was overturned. A lamp lay shattered on the rug.
"Mom?" I whispered, terrified of what I might hear.
A low groan came from the kitchen.
Dad and I rushed in. My mother was slumped against the counter, clutching her head. A nasty gash above her eyebrow was bleeding freely, but she was conscious.
"Mom!" I dropped to my knees, holding her face. "Where is she? Where is Ava?"
"He took her," my mother sobbed, grabbing my jacket with trembling hands. "Ryan. He broke through the back door. I tried to stop him, Emily, I swear I tried. He hit me. He took her out the back, toward the old boathouse on the lake."
"How long ago?" Dad demanded, his voice dangerously calm.
"Five minutes," she wept. "He said... he said if he couldn't have his family, nobody could."
I didn't wait for Dad. I stood up, gripping the gun, and sprinted out the back door into the raging storm.
The path to the boathouse was steep and slick with mud. The rain lashed against my face, blinding me, but adrenaline fueled my legs. I could see the silhouette of the wooden boathouse at the edge of the churning lake.
A flash of lightning illuminated the dock.
There he was.
Ryan. He was drenched, wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, dragging a terrified, crying Ava by the arm toward a small motorized skiff tied to the dock.
"Mommy!" Ava screamed over the thunder.
Ryan whipped his head around. Even through the darkness and the rain, I could feel the absolute madness radiating from his eyes. He had lost everything—his wealth, his status, his freedom. All that remained was a burning desire to destroy me.
"Let her go, Ryan!" I screamed, raising the gun, my hands trembling violently.
May you like
Ryan laughed, pulling Ava flush against his chest, using my daughter as a human shield. He pulled a stolen guard's pistol from his waistband and pressed it to Ava's temple.
"You ruined my life, Emily," Ryan roared over the storm. "Now, we all go together."
