Page 12 of Dismantle & Prevail

“I know, Bo. Can you tell me with confidence it's time to submit for full custody? Be honest. Because if I do this, there is no going back. I need hard, concrete evidence. I will not go on a hunch because if there is even a point zero one percent chance Tana could rebuke the claim, she will make it impossible for me to see Raynie. I need you to be one hundred percent confident because I will not lose my daughter.”

Without a second of hesitation, he says, “It’s time, Aries.”

My body jerks awake and I wipe away the moisture cascading down my face.

I stare out at the dark cage and my head hits the wall behind me as the memories of my nightmare smack me in the face.

Any other day I wake up dreaming of my little girl, I go for a ride or take my anger out on any captor waiting for revenge at the mercy of Boone and the rest of Resilience. But I can’t.

Instead, I stare out at the darkened room as Rayne’s face fills my vision and tears cascade down my face.

Boone was right.

He was also ten steps behind.

I try to wipe away the tears, but they fall so rapidly I can’t.

I cry at the memory of my little girl. I cry for the ultimate defeat that I didn’t make it in time. I cry because I didn’t listen the first time Boone said something.

I cry and cry and cry, because what else is there to do?

Seconds, hours, days, who knows, pass and I cry until exhaustion takes over.

And just as my eyes flutter closed, I mutter, “I miss you, Rayne. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Chapter Five

Taylor

OneMonth.

One month he’s been gone, and we have nothing.

Anger fills me and I slam my fist into the punching bag for the hundredth time, sweat pouring down my face.

We have used every resource we can get our hands on and have come up empty every time.

Aries is gone without a trace.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

Music blares as my fists drive into the bag over and over.

Aries Clark is my hero, who I once hated with every fiber of my being. For the past two years, he has been nothing but a pain in the ass, always telling me what to do, or in most cases, what not to do.

Any other day, I would beg him to leave me alone unless he needed help on a mission, but now, I’d take his disappointed glares or his constant redirections over him not being here.

Using my gloved hand, I swipe the sweat pooling beneath my eyes.

Yep. “Sweat…” Keep telling yourself that.

Ignoring the voices in my head, I swipe once more and drive my fist into the bag.

Pain hits me before I realize what’s happened and I don’t realize that my wrist is screaming in pain until I punch again.

“FUCK!”

Pain radiates up my arm, and I curse myself for being so stupid.