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“What are you talking about, Cole?” Dane had seen Cole in this state only once before—when Gabe was shot. But it wasn’t just about Gabe this time. “What the hell is going on? Who is the Mill Creek Mangler?” The sick feeling in Dane’s gut intensified with each passing second as full-blown nausea began to take over.

Maddy, Savannah, and Abel are missing. Is this “Mangler” the one who took them?

Did Dane want the answer to that question?

Beside him, Cole sat shaking, head down, with his fingers laced behind his neck. “He… he killed a bunch of women… when I was a teenager.” Cole swallowed hard, his eyes vacant as he stared blankly at the floor, and his voice took on a hollow tone. “Didn’t just… kill them…” His chin trembled, and the horror that crept over his face scared the fuck out of Dane. “He… raped and… butchered them. He kept souvenirs… jewelry mostly… like little mementos to remember them by.” Cole squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his neck. “He made me… help him.” Sobs swelled in his throat as utter despair overwhelmed the man. “He wanted me to be like him.”

Dane struggled to process the information. Glancing at the others, he noted their struggles as well. None of them knew about Cole’s past; that was the one thing he had never discussed. Now, Dane understood why. How does one go about telling their friends and loved ones that they are the child of a fucking serial killer —that the same poisoned blood flows through their veins?

He must’ve been fucking terrified that we’d all find out… and disown him?

How could he not consider such an outcome? Dane would have feared the same thing.

“Cole…” Dane touched his back. “… does… does this person have Abel and the kids?” Dane couldn’t express how desperately he wanted Cole to say no, even though he already knew the answer.

Cole nodded once.

Quiet horror masked Devlin’s face. “Does he… want something? Will he give them back?”

The prolonged silence from Cole terrified everyone. He parted his lips as if to speak, but no sound emerged. An unfathomable terror radiated from his eyes. Somehow, he appeared even more frightened than on the day Gabe was shot—and that was a sight Dane never thought he’d witness.

Clint narrowed his eyes slowly. “What does he want?”

His shakes intensified as Cole gripped his hair in fists and cried brokenly, “Gabe.”

Gabe . Cole lifted his head, his heart pounding wildly. “Gabe… is he…?”

“He’s okay,” Devlin said. “He should be out of surgery any moment now. You can see him when they've settled him into his room.”

Cole wilted with relief that his husband was safe. Except he wasn’t—none of them were.

The cowboy remained squatting before him, a strained look on his face. “What do you mean he wants Gabe—” Clint’s cell rang, and the cowboy stood, retrieving the device from his pocket. “Hello?” He listened with a tense expression and then muttered, “All right. Thanks for calling.”

“Who was that?” Cochise asked. Everyone waited, their nerves wound tight.

Clint put away his phone. “Max, he said an officer stopped by the house, wanting to speak to Cole. He’s on his way here.”

“Talk to me about what?” Cole whispered with a tremor.

“The attack has been reported,” Devlin stated. “He likely just wants to hear your side of the story.”

Cole hung his head. “What am I supposed to say?” he choked. “If I tell the truth… I can’t tell the truth. If I involve the cops...”

“Just tell them about finding Gabe,” Dane said. “You don’t need to say anything more than that. If the truth endangers our family, they don’t need to know.”

Horror images from the past haunted Cole’s mind. You have no idea what this madman is capable of. Telling the men about the things his father had done could never compare to experiencing it, witnessing it. Keeping the cops out of it didn’t ensure their family’s safe return—even handing over Gabe wouldn’t guarantee it. What if they’re already dead?

No. Cole refused to believe that.

What if they’re suffering something worse than death?

Indeed, it existed. Death wasn’t always the most terrible fate someone could face. Cole had seen this reality reflected in the faces of the Mangler’s victims. They yearned for death long before the madman was done with them.

“We shouldn’t be here when the cop arrives,” Clint said. “We’ll hang around the hospital but keep out of sight.”

Cole nodded. He felt more at ease with the gangsters nearby, though he wasn’t sure if they could even stand up to the Mangler. Facing monstrous humans wasn’t the same as confronting an actual monster. Clint and Cochise were the true protectors of the family. If they died…

They’re not going to die. NO ONE is going to die!

The nightmare of the past strongly suggested a different reality.

The power that the madman desired demanded blood sacrifices—possibly several. The anguish and terror inflicted on his victims nourished his hunger, while the trauma borne by the survivors was merely the finishing touch.

Devlin stood motionless, his body taut. He flexed his hands at his sides, gazing at Cole.

This is my fault, Cole despaired. I brought this horror into his life. He might lose his family because of me.

The gangsters left the waiting room. Dane draped his arm around Cole’s shoulders and echoed Clint’s question. “What do you mean he wanted Gabe? Did he tell you that?”

“Yes,” Cole rasped, his voice thick. “He said… he said I have until tomorrow morning to… to make my decision.” Cole leaned forward, pressing his forehead to his knees, gasping on sobs.

Devlin released a shaky breath. “What will you tell Gabe?”

Cole sniffed and lifted himself enough to rest his elbows on his knees. Tears streamed down his face. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t hesitate to make the trade. He wouldn’t even have to think about it.” Cole looked up with watery eyes at Devlin. “Neither would I.” He swallowed hard. “I-I tried to trade myself for them, but… but he wouldn’t take me. He wants to torment my mind before he kills me. He wants to break me… by taking away everything I love.”

With each word from Cole, Devlin felt his mental stability slip further away. A serial killer had taken his family hostage, and horrifying visions of their fate loomed, threatening to snap the already fragile thread of his sanity—a thread that was rapidly unraveling.

“I…” Devlin said softly, clearing his throat. “I’ll check on Gabe.” He fought the urge to run from the room, managing to exit in a composed manner. Once in the corridor, he leaned against the wall, bending forward and clutching his knees. Devlin inhaled slowly, taking deep breaths to combat the panic seizing his thoughts and overwhelming his body.

Keep it together—keep it fucking together!

Devlin slowly straightened, pressing his back firmly against the wall for support. His knees felt rubbery and unsupportive beneath him. “Fuck…” His chin trembled as he stared at the high ceiling, tears seeping from his eyes. “Please, God…” His hand crept over his mouth and held fast, pressing tightly as if to suppress the sobs rising in his throat. What are we going to do? Dear God, what are we going to do?!

“Get a grip…” Devlin whispered shakily. “You can’t… lose it…” He pushed away from the wall and walked down the corridor with a stiff gait, his legs resisting proper movement. Struggling to regain his composure, he inquired about Gabe at the nurse’s station, discovering he was out of surgery but not yet awake. Devlin returned to the waiting room with this information, pausing outside the door momentarily to calm his nerves and collect himself.

It didn’t work. His mind spun horror scenes inside his head, refusing him a semblance of peace or hope. Devlin leaned against the wall and hugged his gut, bending forward. Tears welled behind his clenched eyelids, and when he opened his eyes, they spilled down his face, dripping onto the floor.

I can’t handle this… I can’t fucking handle this…

Devlin felt a wave of shame wash over him as he considered what Abel was experiencing. If he succumbed to fear and panic, he would be of no help to Abel and the kids. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Devlin straightened and wiped his eyes.

We’ll find you, baby—all of you—and we’ll get you back. I promise!

Cole looked up expectantly when Devlin entered the room. “Gabe…?”

“He’s out of surgery, and they’ve taken him to a room.” Devlin adopted a professional tone to keep his voice steady. “He’s still unconscious but should wake up soon.”

“I… I want to see him…” Cole stood unsteadily to his feet.

“Soon.” Devlin touched his arm and urged him to sit back down. “He isn’t ready for visitors yet. And…” He glanced at Dane. “… maybe we should wait for the officer and address that first.”

Cole nodded and sank into the chair, his face buried in his hands. “What if Gabe… doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”

The genuine fear in his words tore at Devlin’s heart. Such a notion seemed absurd; he couldn’t imagine one without the other. “That will never happen.”

Dane shook his head. “Not a chance in hell, babe,” he murmured, hugging his friend. “No one gets to choose their parents. You are not your father, and you never will be. You are good to the core. We’ve all seen it. There’s nothing bad lying dormant inside you, waiting to be awakened. Whatever made him a monster, he was born with. You weren’t. Understand?”

Cole sniffed and leaned into Dane’s embrace but didn’t acknowledge that Dane was correct.

I’m so sorry.

Gabe stirred, enveloped in a tar-like darkness.

It’s my fault.

His brow pinched, and his head jerked slightly. “Cole…?” he mumbled, hearing a thick rasp in his voice.

… all my fault…

The despair in his husband’s voice alarmed Gabe. “ Cole…” Gabe forced his eyes open, his vision blurring for a moment before coming into focus. He stared at a high, white ceiling. This isn’t our bedroom. A smell hung in the air that sparked déjà vu and propelled him back to the night he was shot and woke up in the…

Hospital.

Gabe blinked and turned his head as sounds began to fill his ears: the faint beeping and hissing of machines, muffled voices outside his room, and the occasional intercom paging doctor so-and-so. Gabe looked down at the IV in his arm and followed the small tubing up to the bag of fluids hanging beside his bed. When he tried to shift, a pain shot through his side.

Gabe gasped quietly, “Fuck...” , and peeled back the blanket to find his midsection wrapped in a bandage. He struggled to remember what happened, his mind blanking on the events that landed him in the hospital.

I’m so sorry… it’s my fault.

Cole. He remembered Cole’s words against his ear, his arms clutching Gabe— the way he clung to me the night I was shot. Gabe stared at the bandage; had he been shot again? He looked around the room; where was Cole? He should have been here. Gabe couldn’t imagine anything that would keep Cole from being by his side.

Gabe searched for the nurse’s call button. Before he found it, the door opened, and a man entered wearing a white doctor’s coat. He was an older man in his mid-to-late fifties, of average height with short, dark hair. The doctor picked up the clipboard attached to the foot of Gabe’s bed and studied the chart.

“Mr. Young, how are you feeling?”

“What… happened?” Gabe whispered thickly. “Where… is my husband?”

“He’ll be in to see you soon,” the doctor said. “You were attacked and stabbed. But you’re going to be fine.”

“Attacked…” Gabe closed his eyes tightly before opening them again. “I don’t remember…”

“That’s understandable. You’re coming out of the anesthesia, and it can disrupt your memory of recent events.”

Gabe sifted through his foggy memories, struggling to recall the attack. Nothing. “Can… can you please get my husband, doctor?”

The man walked closer. “Oh, I’m not a doctor.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Gabe mumbled. “Nurse?”

Chuckling, the man shook his head. “No. I’m not on the staff here.” He removed his coat and tossed it aside.

“What…?” Gabe frowned; the man had spoken to him like a doctor. “Then who…?”

The smile he gave him stirred a strange niggle in Gabe’s gut.

“We would have met sooner,” the man said with a smooth voice, “if Henry had invited me to the wedding.”

“Henry…?” Cole felt trapped in a disorienting dream; was this a dream? “Who… is Henry?”

The man chuckled low, a deadness in his eyes despite the creepy smile plastered on his face. “Ask your husband.” He started to turn away before pausing. “Oh, and you might want to ask him about Abel… and Maddy… and sweet, lovely Savannah.”

Instant alarm seized Gabe. “What about them? What… what are you talking about? Are they okay?”

Sighing, the man tilted his head. “I don’t know how okay they are, but they are alive.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Gabe tried to shift and recoiled in pain. “ Who are you?” Panic gripped Gabe. “Did you do something to Abel and the kids?! If anything happens to them, I’ll fucking—”

“That’s entirely up to you,” the man replied dully.

“What…?” Gabe trembled, confused and unsure if this was even real. “What do you mean?”

“Talk to Henry.” The man smiled chillingly. “And listen to him carefully … he has plenty to tell you.” Chuckling with amusement, the man exited the room.

Gabe watched the door close slowly behind him as his heart stuttered in his chest.

Who the fuck was Henry?