Page 73 of Emmy's Ride

Tomorrow. I had until tomorrow.

Whatever happened, Ihadto find a way out before I didn’t even recognize myself. I was losing my grasp on reality.

Austin

The war room was rife with tension, the air thick with cigarette smoke and anticipation. I stood at the head of the table, my hands braced against the worn wood, staring down at the scattered maps and intel Jax had pulled together. My men were gathered, a mix of deadly focus and barely leashed aggression, waiting for orders.

I’d wanted to be halfway to Mexico by now.

"Nothing yet," Jax muttered. The tech expert’s usual sarcasm was absent, replaced by a grim determination.

"We're running out of time," I growled. "She could be anywhere. Give us a location."

"She is anywhere," Jax shot back. "That's the whole problem. I can’t give you what I don’t have."

My patience was razor-thin, but snapping at Jax wouldn’t get us any closer to Emmy. The plane was on standby. All we needed was a destination.

Jax froze, the sound of his clicking keyboard ceasing. His entire body tensed, and his fingers remained still.

My pulse kicked up. "What?"

He didn't respond right away. His eyes were locked on the screen, his face pale.

"What the fuck is it, Jax?"

He turned the laptop toward me. The room went silent as the live feed filled the screen.

My world narrowed to that single image.

Emmy was in a dimly lit bedroom, lying on a king-size bed, her body bare, her legs open, revealing everything. Her skin appeared translucent under the glow of the soft lights. She moaned, and I looked closer. She was getting herself off.

Her hands were on herself. Her head tilted back, lips parted, cheeks flushed. I knew that look well.

A sick, twisted voice came from somewhere out of frame—speakers maybe—instructing her. “Good girl. Again.”

My chest tightened, fury roaring through my veins like an inferno.

I knew what I was seeing. Knew she wasn’t doing this willingly. I could see the tension in her muscles, the stiffness in her movements. The way her breathing hitched—not in pleasure, but in barely contained sobs.

My woman. My fucking woman. I saw red.

"Shut it off," I ground out, my voice like gravel.

Jax hesitated. "Austin?—"

"I said shut it the fuck off!"

He slammed the laptop shut, but it was too late. The image was burned into every one of my brain cells, fueling a level of rage I hadn’t felt in years.

The silence in the room was deafening.

"That was a live feed," Jax said quietly. "Which means she’s still there. Still in that room."

I took a deep breath, my fingers digging into the edge of the table. I needed to stay calm. Needed to focus. Losing my head wouldn’t save Emmy—it would get her killed.

"Did we get a location?" My voice was cold. Controlled.

Jax nodded, typing furiously again on a different computer. "Working on it. The signal was bouncing through multiple relays, but I’m tracing it back now."

---