Page 165 of Hymns of the Broken
I run a hand through my hair, jaw aching from how hard I’ve been clenching it. I keep replaying every conversation, every small moment that led up to this—every chance I missed keeping her close. I’m barely keeping my emotions in check; on the inside I’m raging.
My phone buzzes. False hope slams through me as I snatch it up—just another message from Dex’s group.
“Anything?” Riot asks, his voice wrecked, barely more than a whisper.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just Dex checking in again. Nobody has seen a van. Nobody’s seen her.”
Riot’s fist thuds against the table. “She’s out there, Jasper. We’re gonna find her. We have to.”
I nod, but it feels hollow. “We’re running out of time.”
The room falls silent again. The only thing louder than my heartbeat is the rage in my chest—boiling, waiting, desperate for someone to blame.
If I get her back, I swear I’ll never let her out of my sight again.
RIOT
I can’t take it anymore. Sitting here, staring at the same four walls, breathing the same recycled air that still smells likeher shampoo,herlaughter,herlife. My knee bounces under the table so hard my coffee nearly spills. I catch Jace glancing over at me, eyes rimmed red, but I can’t even muster a joke for him. Not tonight.
All this waiting feels like death by a thousand paper cuts.
Every five minutes, I’m checking the porch, the driveway, the yard. I try to help Micah, but all those screens make my eyes hurt and my heart pound. I need action. I need todosomething, anything, or I’m gonna crawl out of my skin.
I shove the front door open, cold air slapping me awake. The sun’s barely up, the world all blue and silver and empty. I stalk the property again, boots crunching through last night’s frost, flashlight trembling in my hand. I check the edge of the woods, the barn, the ditches. I keep yelling her name, voice hoarse, knowing she can’t answer but hoping she’ll hear me, anyway.
Every bush, every rustle, every shadow makes my heart jump.
I replay every late-night walk we took together, the way she’d look over her shoulder and smile, daring me to keep up. I remember her calling me hers.
I choke back a sob.
I will not cry.
It’s just my voice echoing back at me, sounding scared and small. But I don’t care who hears. I’m not stopping. Not untilshe’shome, not until she’s in my arms and I can finally breathe again.
I punch a fence post, knuckles splitting, pain sharp and welcome. I shout her name again, voice cracking with something dangerously close to tears.
If you can hear me, Sawyer, hold on. Just a little longer, Hellcat.
I’m coming, I promise.
SAWYER
I don’t remember falling asleep, only waking up in darkness. My neck is stiff. My hands and feet ache from the cuffs. My throat is raw and dry, but the panic has dulled. Just enough to let me think.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? A day? It all blurs together. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, but it’s not as sharp as the fear.
The room is still, the only sound my shallow breathing and the faint rattle of chains as I tug—careful, quiet, testing every link and bolt, searching for even the most minor weakness.
A voice—distorted, mechanical, more machine than man—cuts through the silence like a knife.
“You won’t be able to break out of those, baby girl.”
His laughter follows, warped and cruel, filling every corner of the room.
My whole body locks up, but I don’t scream. I don’t make a sound. My heart’s thudding so hard I can barely breathe, but I force my head to turn to the chair in the corner.
And there he is.
