Page 68 of The Scout

The only thing I did have was a sick feeling in my gut that this wasn’t random. That whatever had happened to him, whatever was happening now, had been set in motion long before tonight.

I heard Isabel before I saw her. Her footsteps were quieter than most, but I knew the way she moved now, the soft shift of her weight, the way she hesitated at the threshold. When she finally stepped inside, I knew something was off.

She moved too carefully, her shoulders stiff, her fingers clenched around something small and crumpled.

She handed it to me without a word.

I didn’t read it right away. I watched her instead. She wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t breaking down. She was calm.

That made something twist in my chest.

Finally, I unfolded the letter, my eyes scanning the lines, the neat, deliberate strokes of Will’s handwriting. By the time I reached the end, my blood was running hot.

Will had been given full control over his operation. I trusted him to handle his own shit. But if he was worried about his own safety, he hadn’t told anyone. Not even me. And that meant one of two things—either he hadn’t seen this coming, or he had, and he hadn’t told us.

My fingers tightened around the paper. Dominion could be reckless, but we weren’t stupid. If we were running close to the line, we took a team. Always. No exceptions. So why the fuck had Will been handling this alone?

I looked at Isabel again. Still calm. Still composed.

“You’re handling this too well,” I said, my voice low. “Why?”

She met my eyes without hesitation. “Because if Will really thought the best place for me was with you, then I’ll listen.”

Something thick and dangerous settled in my chest. I forced it down. There was no time for that now.

She wanted to help. And truthfully, I’d sent her back to her apartment because I thought it’d be a wild goose chase, something to keep her occupied while I handled the real problem. But now she was here. At Dominion Hall. And I had to find something for her to do.

I was thinking through the options when my phone vibrated.

A text.

I glanced at the screen and went still.

It was a picture.

Will.

Blindfolded. Hanging by his wrists. His body beaten and bloody.

I stared at it for a long second, my pulse a slow, steady burn.

Then I looked at Isabel.

She didn’t know it yet, but the war had just started.

23

ISABEL

Ryker’s entire body went still as he stared at his phone. I had spent enough time around him now to recognize the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw clenched just slightly when something was wrong. But he didn’t say a word. He didn’t explain. He just turned on his heel, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice low, unreadable.

My stomach twisted. “What? Where?”

He didn’t answer right away. He moved across the room with smooth, calculated steps, his hands flexing at his sides, barely restrained energy vibrating off of him.

“Stay here,” he said instead, his dark gaze locking onto mine. “Do not leave Dominion Hall.”

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