Page 84 of Beneath the Surface

The news should have brought relief, even joy, but something in the set of Alex’s jaw made Brad’s stomach churn. He caught the look exchanged between Alex and Charlotte, the unspoken tension radiating off them.

“What’s wrong?” Brad demanded, his voice sharp. “What else happened?”

Alex swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find the words. “Brad…” His voice cracked. “Hale has Izzy.”

Brad’s knees buckled slightly, but he forced himself to stay upright, locking his legs against the wave of dizziness that threatened to take him down. “How?” he rasped. “When?”

Alex took a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It happened here. At the hospital. Dillon tried to stop him, but Hale had an accomplice. Dillon’s in surgery now—they’re trying to stop a brain bleed. Riley…” He paused, his voice breaking. “Riley didn’t make it.”

The words hit Brad like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He staggered, his hand shooting out to grab John to steady himself. “No,” he whispered, his mind reeling. “No. This can’t—” he broke off, his voice failing him.

“We’ve already set up a command center,” Alex said quickly. “It’s at Sophie and Tristan’s house. Every resource we have is being mobilized. We’ve started a statewide search.”

Brad barely heard him. His thoughts were consumed by one image: Belle. His Belle, in the hands of a monster. Suffering. Terrified.

“I should’ve been here,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-recrimination. “I should’ve?—”

“Brad,” Charlotte said firmly, stepping closer. “This is not your fault.”

He shook his head, his fists clenched. “I knew he was dangerous. I should’ve done more?—”

“You couldn’t have known,” Alex interrupted. “And now, we do everything.Everything,Brad. We’ll find her.”

Brad’s head swirled, everything pressing down on him: the loss of Riley, Dillon fighting for his life, and Belle—his Belle—missing, taken by a man who embodied cruelty and death.

“Where do we start?” he asked finally, his voice low and determined.

Alex placed a hand on his shoulder. “We start by getting you to Sophie and Tristan’s. Hale’s not going to slip through our fingers.”

Brad nodded numbly, his mind still racing. But, beneath it all, a fire ignited in his chest. Hale had taken the woman he loved, and he would stop at nothing to bring her back.

Isobel’s worldhad become a blur of pain and darkness. The low light above flickered, casting shadows across the dingy room where she was being held. Her body was bruised and battered, and the tight corset dug painfully into her ribs, making every breath a struggle. The leather straps binding her wrists and ankles cut into her skin, the pain a constant reminder of her captivity.

Malcolm Hale stood in front of her, his sadistic smile widening as he watched her flinch under the harsh light. He hadupped the intensity of his torment, both physically and mentally, trying to break her in every possible way. His shirtless torso gleamed with sweat, and his leather pants creaked as he moved toward her, whip in hand.

“You’ve been so quiet,” he sneered, the whip cracking near her feet. “I thought Brad would’ve trained you better than this. I thought you’d be stronger. But you’re breaking, aren’t you? You can feel it. Just submit, Isobel. Stop fighting.”

Isobel gritted her teeth, her heart pounding in her chest. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Not now. Not ever. The more Hale tried to destroy her, the more she fought back in the only way she could, by refusing to give him the one thing he craved: her submission.

She closed her eyes, drifting away from the present moment, forcing herself to think of Brad. He was still out there, fighting for her. She could almost hear his voice in her mind, steady and strong, reminding her to focus, to hold on. He had taught her about control, about how to find it.

“You think you can break me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but defiant. “But you can’t. You’ll never have my submission.”

Hale stepped closer, his expression darkening with fury. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? Think you’re in control here?”

Isobel let a small, bitter smile touch her lips, even through the agony. “You’ll never be what Brad is to me. You can torture me, but you’ll never have my mind.”

Hale’s nostrils flared in anger, and the whip cracked across her shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain through her body. Isobel’s breath caught, but she refused to scream. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure. She let herself drift again, back to Brad, to the warmth of his arms, to the strength she drew from his love.

Her only way to survive this was to outsmart Hale, to outlast him. If she broke, she would die. If she held on, there was a chance. And she knew Brad would be fighting just as hard to find her, to save her.

“I’m stronger than you think,” Isobel whispered.

Hale stepped back, frustration evident in his eyes. He had underestimated her resilience, and that clearly enraged him. But she didn’t care. Her only focus now was surviving long enough for the man who loved her to find her.

Thirty-Two

The dining table at Sophie and Tristan’s home was barely visible beneath the chaos of maps, case files, and laptops. Every chair was filled with grim-faced law enforcement officers: detectives from Waverly County PD, including Isobel’s sister Olivia; the State Highway Patrol; investigators from the State’s Attorney’s office; and a handful of federal agents who had joined the effort. The air was thick with tension.

---