Page 37

Max

It's almost two in the afternoon, but this is the earliest I've been out of bed in a long time.

I'm doing an extra lap around the neighborhood with Rosie after finally getting my phone back from Bianca.

She was gone all day yesterday and must have had it with her since I couldn't find it anywhere in her room.

Now that I have my phone back, maybe I'll be strong enough to avoid checking the dot for a while; my mental health is noticeably better since getting a break from the GPS app.

The sun feels unusually strong as Rosie pulls us into Grandpa's yard, or maybe I'm too used to being inside all day with the curtains drawn.

I stifle a groan when his front door opens.

I'm not in the mood to talk. I shouldn't have let my dog lead us this far.

"Max? What the hell are you doing? You look like shit." Grandpa walks down his porch steps onto the stone driveway, adjusting his thick glasses to glare at me .

"Nice to see you, too."

"No, seriously. Marco's already landed. They'll be here in about an hour."

I hide my surprise. I thought they were coming tomorrow.

"I have plenty of time." I check my watch, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Fine. But clean yourself up and get back here immediately." He huffs, looking me up and down. He's probably judging my pajama pants and plain tee. "Did you just get out of bed?"

"Yes." I shrug.

"Max, I know you've been upset, but this is important."

I pretend to be distracted by my dog. His eyes narrow. "Max?"

"Alright, alright, I get it. Once I'm home, I'll shower and shave. Thirty minutes, tops."

"You better be nice to this young lady."

"I will. I have nothing against her. She probably hates this as much as I do."

He sighs, shaking his head as he returns inside.

He's mad, but I'm glad the conversation ended quickly.

I guide Rosie home. She looks up with her typical dopey-dog smile, warming my chest; I don't know what I'd do without her. She tries to stall as we near home, but I'm not as lenient now and hurry us inside.

I hang up her leash and meander around the first floor of my house.

Everything is such a goddamn mess. I haven't called the cleaners back—floors unswept, carpets unvacuumed.

The kitchen is especially horrific; I've been too depressed to load the dishwasher or take out trash.

I don't want to think about the state of my bedroom.

My hand reaches for my phone, but I clench my fist, resisting the pull to check on her.

I drop onto the couch and turn on the TV, rubbing my jaw. I told Grandpa I'd get ready immediately, but I've put off shaving so long I've grown a decent beard. I'll just need a shower.

Plenty of time.

Before finding something mindless to watch, my phone vibrates. The number isn't saved but shows as valid, so I answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Massimo Calabrese?" A woman's voice.

"Yes."

"I'm with the Kenton police department."

"Kenton?" I scratch my head.

"Ohio."

My body shakes and I switch to speaker. This must be about Hailey.

"Anyway," she continues, "we recovered your abandoned car from the highway. A Dodge Challenger? It's not damaged, but it's been towed. We didn't see it reported stolen..."

"No... I uh, let a friend borrow it."

"Right. Well, do you have a pen? I can give you the lot's address."

"Sure."

She provides details while I open the tracking app instead .

I'm used to seeing one red dot; the bag and car were so close I'd need to zoom in to separate them. Now they're apart. What I assume is the car remains in Ohio while the other dot sits in Illinois, south of Chicago.

Hailey told me the base was a couple hundred miles south of Chicago.

She's either doing something incredibly stupid or they've captured her with her bag.

Bile rises in my throat. I forget about the call.

"Mr. Calabrese?"

"Yeah?" My voice sounds distant.

"You get all that?"

She probably means the lot's address. I don't care about the car and won't retrieve it.

"Sure," I say.

"Well, have a nice day. Call with any questions."

"Thanks."

When the call ends, I grab a pillow, scream into it, then throw it across the room.

Rosie whines, distressed by my mood, but I can't calm down.

"I shouldn't have given my phone to Bianca," I repeat, pacing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

What are they doing to her? How long has she been there? Worse—is she still alive?

I've failed her completely. I didn't tell her about Marco Ferrara soon enough. I didn't protect her from VOE.

My phone buzzes with Grandpa's text.

They're driving like bats out of Hell. They’ll be here in thirty. Get over here now, kid!

I like the message, not knowing what else to do, and throw my phone across the room. I pace manically, wondering what to do. I obviously can't go to Grandpa's; with Hailey already at the base, there's no time. But my family will know something's wrong when I don't show.

I'll just have to deal with the family fallout. Hailey needs me.

My mind shifts to her, wondering what they're doing. If they've hurt her, I swear I'll reduce that place to rubble.

I take the fastest shower ever, slapping soap haphazardly on my body. Looking presentable might help if I break in. I might need social engineering instead of going full Rambo. I towel off and sprint downstairs, unsure if I've rinsed all the shampoo out.

I open my safe, grabbing various weapons though a pistol might be all I can sneak in. I stuff knives in my thick pants pockets, unsure if I'll be outside all night. I grab a ski mask for stealth, but it might make me more conspicuous.

Downstairs again, I control my breathing. There isn't time for emotions. I must focus entirely on saving Hailey. I won't stop until she's safe or I die trying.

"Sorry, Ro," I say as she whines by her leash, already forgetting our walk .

I jump into something fast but subtle, peeling out of the garage, hoping no family sees me leave.

At a stoplight, I turn off location sharing with Dad and Grandpa—something we set up in case we ever got kidnapped by someone too stupid to destroy our phones first.

The long drive lets me plan. I have no idea what to expect. Can I charm my way in? Scale a fence? Shoot through? I know it's a huge compound from Hailey's brief description. My stomach knots wondering how to pull this off. These people train like the military, and I'm alone.

But Hailey's in trouble. The thought of her hurt drives me insane. I'll stop at nothing to get her back.