Page 59 of Saved from Obsession

Shehasto be okay. Shehasto.

I keep telling myself that. Hoping if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it. Refusing to let myself think of all the ways Georgia could be hurt. Or why her tracker hasn’t moved since I spotted her.

Shecouldbe restrained, drugged, unconscious. All terrible options, but not the worst.That’sthe thought I keep fighting against, ruthlessly pushing it away. I won’t let myself considerthat. I can’t. Not if I’m going to get through this without having a complete breakdown.

I need to get to her. It’s been almost two hours since Georgia left my apartment. Two hours that she could have been tortured and terrorized. And it’s my fault.

The last time I left her, she was attacked. What was I thinking, leaving her again? I could have gotten the information from the prison some other way. I didn’thaveto go myself. But I thought she’d be safe. I never once imagined she’d leave.

What did he tell her? How did he convince her I was in danger?

My emotions are crashing into me, knocking me off balance. Fear claws at my chest while guilt presses down on it. I can barely breathe through the pressure and pain of it. But I need to get it together, or I’ll be no good to Georgia.

We’re parked just down the street from the address I found—a deserted liquor store in a run-down part of Port Chester. I pulled it up on Google street view as we headed here, but the updated version of it is much worse than what I saw online. Plywood in the windows withclosedpainted all over it. Trash blown into piles along the wall and doorway and a garbage-filled alley to one side with overflowing bins.

If someone was looking for a place to do something illegal, this would be it.

Which is one silver lining in this whole mess—when we break into the store, hopefully no one will notice us. We’re assuming we won’t be able to walk right in, so Cole will pick the lock in the front while I take care of the one in the rear. Yes, it’s illegal, but in this case the endsdefinitelyjustify the means.

“Are we ready?” Cole is in the backseat of the car, leaning forward to talk to us.

“I’m ready,” I grit out, my jaw clenched.

“Same,” Rylan replies sharply, his eyes narrowed with determination.

“I’ll go in the front, as discussed,” Cole says, his gaze shifting between Rylan and me. “Rylan will enter the back door first. Then Leo. The tranq guns are our first choice. If that won’t work, try to take them down silently.”

Frustration beats at me. I want to getinthere. “If Georgia’s at risk,” I bite out. “I don’t care if it’s quiet. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Agreed.” Cole jerks his chin at me. “Silent and non-lethal is preferred, but Georgia’s safety is our priority.” He pauses to meet my gaze. “So let’s get in there and rescue your woman.”

We get out of the car one at a time, staggering our exits so it doesn’t look obvious. Rylan goes first, taking a meandering path past the alley before he loops back around, slipping between the buildings like a ghost. Cole is next, staggering like he’s slightly drunk, stopping to slump to a seat amidst the trash in front of the store entrance.

Then I move out, crossing to the opposite side of the street from where the liquor store is and walking halfway down the block. On my return trip, I dart across the street like I’m hurrying to avoid traffic and keep heading straight back into the alley.

Once we’re at the back door of the store, I give Rylan a quick nod and get to work. I don’t pick locks often, but I make sure to practice enough to keep my skills fresh and I have the door unlocked in under a minute. As much as I want to burst inside right away, my training keeps me still and waiting for Cole’s signal to move.

When my phone vibrates with the Blade and Arrow signature rhythm, I put my hand on the door handle and glance over at Rylan. “Ready?”

He lifts his chin, gaze steady on me. “As always.”

Holding my tranq gun at the ready, I open the door and let Rylan slip inside in front of me. Following close behind, I enter a small storage room, empty except for some torn cardboard boxes and a few broken bottles. Clearing it quickly, we move toward the front of the store.

There’s a short hallway with two more doors, both closed. Our movements in unison, communicating through quick nods and glances, Rylan and I enter a tiny office next and my heart catches when I see the large metal file cabinet inside. It’s at least four feet long and two feet tall, big enough to stash—

No. I can’t think of it.

When I start toward the cabinet, Rylan hisses a low, urgent, “Wait.” His face is expressionless but his shoulders are tight as he tugs open the large lower drawer. Then he visibly relaxes and turns back to me, giving a little shake of his head. I’m infinitely relieved it was empty, but the question still beats at me—where is Georgia?

The question still remains after we’ve cleared the remaining rooms—a deserted employee locker room and a very dirty bathroom. Just as Rylan and I move back into the hallway, Cole sends another message.

Cleared in the front. Nothing.

How can this be? I looked at the tracker location right before we came inside. It hadn’t moved since the first time I saw it. But there’s no one here, and the place is eerily silent.

“What did we miss?” I ask Rylan, my voice low and stretched close to snapping. “A trap door? Hidden closet? Did you see anything outside that would indicate a basement?”

“I didn’t see anything like that,” Cole says as he walks into the hallway to join us. “Is it possible the tracker could have malfunctioned?”

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