“So he has her inside?” a voice murmured behind me.
A scream rose swiftly in my throat. Brock spun to me, somehow anticipating what I was about to do, scream my fucking head off, and covered his hand over my mouth. He peered into my eyes. “It’s just Grayson and Micah.”
The spiked hairs on my arms slowly relaxed, along with my zooming heart rate, and Brock took his hand off my mouth. “Grayson,” I hissed. “What the fuck. Why are you here?” He literally scared ten years off my life.
“Same as you. To get our sister back.”
“Micah,” I scolded.
He held up his hands. “I’m not getting in the middle of a family dispute. My best friend asked for my help. How could I refuse? Besides, I couldn’t let the three of you have all the fun.”
Perhaps, it was better that they were here—the complete Elite.
Flanked by four lethal and hot guys, we entered the school. I imagined half the girls at school would die to be in my shoes, until they realized this wasn’t a steamy fantasy but a goddamn nightmare.
Fynn opened the door, and we filed in, one by one in single file, hugging the wall in the dark. The red exit sign above the door cast a small glow on the floor. Now what? Turns out Carter answered the question in my head. It was like he wanted us to follow him, to be found, and maybe he did.
“Scream again, and I will hit you harder this time.” His voice echoed from down the hallway.
My steps faltered at learning that Carter had hit her. Grayson put a steadying hand under my elbow. How many times? What injuries did she suffer at his hands versus those she sustained in the accident? But even the car crash was Carter’s fault. So in fact, all of her pain was due to Carter.
Fynn made a movement with his hand, indicating to the boy’s locker room down the hallway. We rushed past both sets of double-wide gym doors, reaching the locker room.
Carter’s voice came through the other side. “Your boys are taking their sweet time rescuing you. Perhaps it’s because you mean nothing to them,” he spat. I could hear the scuffling of his shoes as he paced the locker room.
Kenna made a muffled scream, and my body tensed.
She was alive. That was something to hold onto.
“If you hadn’t fucked everything up,” he continued his rant. “It would be Josie sitting in that chair. For your sake, you better pray they show up.”
A rumble rocked through Brock’s chest at the mention of my name.
How had Kenna screwed up his plans?
Silence stretched, and I held my breath.
Brock nodded, and Fynn held up his hand again, this time ticking down his fingers. One. Two. Three.
He threw open the door.
Brock already had his gun in his hand, and Fynn reached for his as he stepped over the threshold. The Elite moved as one. I was too stunned to do anything but watch from the corner, as the four of them spun to the row of lockers, revealing themselves. Brock and Fynn each held their guns pointed forward at the target.
I watched the expression on Brock’s face. A mask of aloofness descended over his features, cloaking the steaming fury that radiated underneath. To Carter, he would appear unaffected, untouchable. “It’s fucking over, Carter. Put down the gun,” Brock ordered with cold calm.
Oh. My. Gawd. He had a gun.
I surged from my hiding spot as Brock growled my name, his arm dashing out around my waist, pulling me to his side, all while still pointing the gun at Carter.
“Hello, sis,” the prick said tartly, his lips curving into a sinister grin that made my stomach lurch.
I didn’t give two shits about my ex-stepbrother and spared him nothing but a fleeting glance as my frantic gaze searched the room for Kenna. Hands and feet bound to one of the coaches’ chairs, tears streamed down Kenna’s cheeks, soaking the bandana tied around her mouth. She had a few nicks on her face but no other visible signs of injuries, not like Grayson had suffered. But the real threat was the gun Carter had pressed to her temple.
My gaze collided with Kenna’s, and my heart fractured into a million pieces at the fear I saw in them. She begged me to help. Perhaps it was a triplet thing, but I swore I could feel the depth of her terror inside of me. It was crippling.
I felt my legs give out, but Brock was there to keep me on my feet.
“You son of a bitch,” Grayson swore, his closed fists shaking with rage at his sides.