Page 98 of Hero's Heart

Callum’s eyes burned as he blinked against the glow of his phone screen. He’d just started to drift off when the notification buzzed against the nightstand. Sloane.

Can I come over?

As sheriff, he got calls and messages after midnight all the time, but never from Sloane. He rubbed a hand over his face, a mixture of excitement and concern stirring in his chest. He wanted her here—hell, he wanted her in more ways than he cared to admit—but this felt different. The timing, the tone. Still, he couldn’t ignore the pull in her words.

Maybe this was about the kiss earlier at the Eagle’s Nest. God knew he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

And hell, even if it wasn’t about that, even if she just wanted to talk or something like that, that would be fine.

Always.

He sent the text then set his phone aside and swung his legs off the bed. Adrenaline pushed back the lingering heaviness of sleep as he padded to the living room.

He glanced at the crib in the corner, a recent addition to the sparse space. The rocking chair next to it sat beneath the soft glow of the moon filtering through the blinds. Callum’s chest tightened. He wanted Sloane to see this, to understand what he was building, not just for the baby, but for her—forthem. The flowers on the porch were fresh too, a subtle nod to her love for small, thoughtful touches. Would she notice?

Would she care?

The perimeter alarm chimed softly, and he disabled it. A moment later, a car engine purred outside, its headlights sweeping briefly across the front windows before cutting out. She was here.

Callum moved to the door, opening it just as her fist was about to knock. He started to grab her in for a hug, but then he saw her face. It was pale, her expression tight with something that stopped him cold. The usual brightness in her eyes was shadowed by something heavy, dark. He stepped forward, hands automatically reaching for her, but she flinched at his touch.

“Sloane, what?—?”

A shadow shifted in the corner of his vision, and before he could react, cold steel pressed against his temple. A rough voice rasped from the darkness.

“Don’t move.”

Callum’s jaw clenched. He shifted his eyes to the side to see who it was, at the same time his brain placed the accent.

Jakob fucking Kozak, complete with half of his face missing.

Then it got worse as Nikola moved to stand behind Sloane, the soft shine of a blade visible in his hand as he pressed it up to the side of her neck. She let out a little whimper.

“Get inside,” Jakob ordered, jerking the gun to emphasize his point. Callum’s fists tightened at his sides, but he stepped back, his every nerve screaming for action he couldn’t take—not with Sloane in this position.

His mind raced as Jakob forced him back into the living room. Goddamn it, he should’ve been more alert. More focused. Should’ve listened to his gut when it told him that text from Sloane was off. Maybe then, he could’ve taken the Kozaks by surprise rather than the other way around.

He studied Sloane without a word. She looked like hell, although not physically hurt, thank God—no blood, no bruises.

But she was paler than he’d ever seen her,breaths rapid and shallow—not that he could blame her for being completely terrified when the creatures of her nightmares had shown up. She was still in her pajamas, for Christ’s sake. They’d fucking taken her from her bed.

Callum needed to do something. He catalogued the weapons within reach—his duty belt was by the front door, but his service pistol was on the nightstand in the bedroom.

Too far. He definitely couldn’t make it to the bedroom.

He had an extra Glock hidden under the side table by the couch, maybe ten feet away. That, he might be able to make it to.

Callum took one step in that direction, and Jakob’s meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Don’t even think about doing anything stupid, Webb. We can’t have you leaving when it took us so long to get here.”

Jakob snatched the handcuffs from Callum’s duty belt. Callum tensed, still ready to go for his Glock, hoping he’d get to it while Jakob was messing with the cuffs.

But he froze when a whimper escaped Sloane’s lips. Nikola was pressing the tip of the knife into her skin enough to draw blood. If Callum tried anything now, she would die.

Rage and fear warred within him as Jakob secured the cuffs tight around his wrists behind his back. Callum met Nikola’s empty, ruthless eyes over Sloane’s shoulder, and the man just smiled.

Then pain exploded in Callum’s abdomen as Jakob drove a fist into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for air, as the cold metal of the cuffs bit into his skin.

He’d barely recovered before Nikola shoved Sloane into a chair near the kitchen. His stomach churned at the way the man’s empty eyes roved over her body.But at least Sloane’s hands weren’t restrained behind her back, and where Nikola had put her, she was close to the side door. If Callum could just distract these assholes long enough, maybe she could make a run for it.

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