They arrived in the same car, stopping at the end of the dirt path that wound up to the cabin. Morgan was out of the car before the engine had even silenced, holding Morgan’s gun in both hands while Mason had decided to use Gary’s. This was so Morgan would be equipped with the firearm he’d been practicing with. They couldn’t risk a poor shot from inexperience.
“From here on out there’s no talking,” Mason said. “We’ll approach together, split into our teams, and cover each door. The moment we part, start counting back from thirty. When you hit zero, we breach. Everyone understand?”
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
Morgan’s jittery nerves got the better of him. He hoped they were that well synchronized when the time came. An image of Rachel flashed in his mind, and it didn’t help matters—it just made him more nervous. What if he had to go home and explain he’d lost their only child? How could he live with himself knowing he’d screwed it all up?
“Stay focused,” Gary said, passing him and patting him on the shoulder.
“I will.”
As the others began their hike up the hill, Morgan stood frozen for a moment. This was it, he realized; this was the night—or early morning, if you were being pedantic—that everything was going to change. One way or another, he was heading home with answers.
Was Robin safe?
Morgan fell into a light jog, catching up to the three men who were all here for him. As comrades, they ventured up the path in silence. Sideways glances were exchanged from all angles. Morgan could see from their clouding breath that they were all as nervous as he was. Steaming clouds floated from their mouths in rapid succession, almost appearing as one long trail. Morgan’s was no better—he could see his breath, but that didn’t mean he could feel it. It felt as though he was about to suffocate, and the gun in his hand didn’t help calm him.
The cabin came into sight within minutes. It loomed there in the darkness like it had a life of its own. The absence of light and the way the moon cast down across the wall made the windows look like closed eyes. It encouraged Morgan to keep quiet, dreading the possibility that he might awaken the dwelling monster.
But the real monster was inside.
At least he hoped so.
They reached the top of the path and officially came onto the property. Mason tilted his wristwatch toward the moonlight and tapped Bill on the arm. Bill nodded and headed for the nearby door. Gary was glued to his side and unarmed. Morgan, trying not to feel bad for accepting Gary’s gun, followed Mason around the cabin, counting back from thirty. Dry leaves crunched under their feet, but it was unavoidable. Had he woken Erika? Was Erika even inside?
Twenty-three.
Twenty-two.
Around the corner, Mason stopped beside a wooden door. He looked at Morgan and gave a short, sharp nod. It said: “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He then pointed two fingers at his own eyes before jerking them toward the door.
Fifteen.
Fourteen.
The gun shook like a leaf in Morgan’s hand. This was it: the moment that would define his abilities as a father—the singular event that would either save their son or destroy their lives. The risk was a great burden that couldn’t be shed, but Morgan understood there was only one way to combat this.
He had to own it.
Three.
Mason gave him a thumbs-up.
Two.
Morgan clutched the gun tight in his hands.
One.
It was Mason who kicked down the door. One singular bash with the heel of his foot knocked it from its hinges. It struck the floor with a crash. A woman’s voice cried out and Morgan froze. Mason had his Beretta aimed in front of him, taking point and entering the building. Morgan followed in close, adrenaline flushing through him like his blood had turned to ice. He suddenly knew he wasn’t prepared for this, and if the empty feeling in his stomach wasn’t enough to tell him that, the deafening explosion that came next sure was.
Morgan never saw what happened, but he was blinded by a flood of light that exploded from inside the cabin. The blast made his ears ring, pairing with his blurred vision to make him stall. Mason blocked his path, but something inside took over. Was it his desperation to reach Robin? Perhaps it was concern for Gary, the source of the blast still unknown to him. Whatever it was, his body seemed to take off by itself, with Morgan’s mind acting as only a backseat driver as he lunged into the cabin, pushing past Mason to view the scene ahead.
He wished he hadn’t.
Gary was on the floor, surrounded by wooden debris. Scattered flames licked up at the walls, some sparkling hot orange by his feet. A large patch of dark red covered Gary’s leg, his face a picture of agony. Beside him, Bill lay facedown on the ground, motionless.
“Hey!” Mason rushed toward Bill, shaking him.
There was no movement.
But there was also none from Morgan. It felt as though he was frozen in time, sentenced to the great punishment of having to watch the fallout of his own actions. He’d caused this, he thought. If only he’d never pursued Erika in the first place. If only he’d let Mason die.
No. There was more to it than that.
This was all down to Erika Givens. Morgan would not accept the blame.
He rushed to Gary’s side, dropping to one knee and putting both hands on his chest. He scanned up and down his friend’s body looking for other wounds—something more fatal. Thankfully, there was none. “What the hell happened?”
“She set up a goddamn trap.” Gary pointed to the gaping hole in the wall, his other hand reaching down to clutch his bleeding leg. He winced, let go, and fell onto his back, staring up at the cabin ceiling. “I’m okay, buddy. Just go.”
Morgan glanced to his right where Mason had rolled Bill onto his side. Mason was staring back at him, rage filling the whites of his eyes, hot red bursting into his cheeks. Morgan had never seen anyone as such a perfect picture of anger—of pure, unrelenting rage. Mason nodded at him, and as if it had a mind of its own, his hand reached down for the gun.
Before Morgan knew it he was on his feet, dashing out of the cabin and back into the cold winter woods, his heart heavy and a rush of fear taking control of him. He was uncertain before, but now there was nothing clearer than the idea of Erika paying for her actions. Now, she’d gone a step too far, and Morgan could clearly envision putting a bullet in her chest.
Or could he?
There was only one way to find out, and it wasn’t far away.