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An invisible vise tightened around Josie’s chest as she stood along the road among dozens of emergency vehicles, staring up at Mace Phelan’s hunting lodge. It was the only house in the area for miles and miles. It sat adjacent to State Game Land 89 in Clinton County. Josie had been nearly ninety minutes away when Erica shared the location. She’d made it in forty-five. On the way, she’d called Heather Loughlin, Gretchen, Chief Chitwood, Trinity, and even Turner. Talking to them kept her panic at bay. It grew exponentially with every mile she traveled because she knew that, based on what Erica had told her, getting to Noah would be no simple task.

Given the remote location of the lodge, three armed suspects on the loose in a large wooded area and two innocents at risk, the local borough police department would need an assist from the state police. Their Special Emergency Response Team would be called in. SERT was equivalent to SWAT. In this situation, their vast resources would be critical to apprehending the suspects and securing the scene. Drones would be deployed as well as helicopters equipped with FLIR or forward-looking infrared cameras, which could locate the suspects via their heat signatures. No medics would be able to retrieve Noah until that happened, no matter how badly he was injured. It simply wasn’t safe.

It had been two hours since she arrived on-scene. She was only allowed to stay if she followed Heather’s directions to the letter, which were for her to remain in the exact spot where she currently stood until told otherwise. SERT had made contact with Erica on the phone she’d been using. Josie had broken and texted a few times for updates on Noah. He was hanging in there. She wouldn’t believe it until she saw for herself and put her hands on him.

Overhead, the steady thwip thwip thwip of the state police helicopter grew louder as it made another pass over the house, searching the wooded area behind it. Josie scanned the scene again. The driveway was long and steep. The house was as huge as it was beautiful. White pine accented its rustic fieldstone veneer. Tall, sleek windows gleamed in the morning sun. Across the front was an expansive deck with what appeared to be an ornate metal balustrade depicting the silhouettes of deer and elk running through a forest. It looked more like a resort than a hunting lodge—an unlikely place for the horrors Josie knew had taken place there in the last several days.

A burst of chatter squawked over the police radios around her. Tactical teams moved up the hill, through the woods. A sense of urgency and frenetic energy rolled through the officers gathered around her and Josie knew this nightmare was close to being over. The rest happened in a blur. Two men she’d never seen before and Mace Phelan, secured with zip ties, were marched down the driveway and put into vehicles. An ambulance raced toward the house. Then Heather was pushing her into a car, and they were following it, and the stricture around Josie’s chest was so tight she could barely draw in air.

A trooper cordoned off the backyard with crime scene tape in anticipation of the forensic team. Only the paramedics were allowed past it. Josie’s chest pressed against it as she watched them leave their stretcher outside and enter the shed, bags in hand.

Minutes ticked by but no one emerged. They weren’t coming out. Why weren’t they coming out? Maybe she asked the question out loud because Heather said, “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

People moved all around Josie. Evidence techs in Tyvek suits swarmed the yard and still no one came out of the shed. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe only a reasonable amount of time had passed but it felt like a thousand years, and she was so close. So damn close.

What if they were too late? She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t handle it.

Her heart. Her heart was going so fast and now she felt everything and the pressure on her chest was so much worse, crushing, crushing, and she was pretty sure her rib cage was cracking because the crushing was too much. It was too much. Someone was next to her, talking, but she couldn’t look at them because no one was coming out of the shed and she wasn’t going to survive this. She knew it. She wouldn’t. This was the worst one. Worse than Ray or Lisette or Mettner. This was worse than anything Lila ever did to her, and she wouldn’t be able to take this. She wouldn’t.

An arm curled around her shoulders. Chief Chitwood’s voice broke through her silent hysteria. “Quinn.”

She couldn’t remember him ever being affectionate toward her, even in her lowest moments, but she sagged into him, nonetheless. At that moment, one of the paramedics came out and started gathering equipment.

“Look,” said the Chief. “Spine board. Cervical collar. Not a body bag.”

Noah was carried out moments later, secured to the spine board, and placed onto the stretcher. When they finally cleared the crime scene tape, the Chief gave her a gentle push and there he was, finally, within reach. The air whooshed out of her lungs when she saw the damage to his face, the head wound, the dried blood everywhere, the bruising on every inch of exposed skin. The Chief gripped her shoulders, steadying her again. Despite the paramedics scolding her, she laid her hands on Noah, touching him lightly everywhere she could, avoiding his face, while she walked alongside the stretcher.

“Josie.”

His voice again. Faint, broken, but his voice.

“I’m here,” she said. “Oh God, I’m here.”

“You came.”

She rested a palm gently on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady despite how he looked. “I’ll always run toward the danger with you.”

“That’s my line.” A smile stretched across his battered face. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

The paramedics paused when they reached the back of the ambulance. The cervical collar wouldn’t allow Noah to turn toward her so she leaned over his face, grinning so wide, her cheeks hurt. “Promise to always come home to me.”

“I promise,” he answered, voice still strained. “But let’s stop at the hospital first. I might want to try out their CT scanner.”