Page 18 of Stitch & Steel

Eighteen

LOGAN

We rode like the devil was on our tail.

No stops. No breaks. Only enough time to refill tanks, piss behind gas stations, and shove protein bars down our throats. My brothers could barely keep up, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t slowing down for anything. Not tonight. Not with Gran missing.

The roar of engines echoed through the hills as we tore across state lines, carving through the mountains like a steel storm.

I called everyone I knew—every club chapter, every local contact, even a few friends on the force who owed me favors.

Didn’t matter that it hadn’t been long enough for a formal missing person’s case.

The red tape didn’t scare me. Bureaucracy wasn’t going to stop us.

Not when one of ours was out there. Alone.

Gran. Sweet, stubborn, shotgun-packing Gran.

Bella’s voice haunted me the entire ride. The panic in her tone when she called. The sharp edge of fear under every word. I’d only been gone a few days, just long enough to handle a job, and now the woman I swore to protect was out there, alone in the woods, in God-knows-what condition.

As the sun sank below the ridgeline, the air grew colder. Shadows deepened. The light on the horizon died slow, and all I could think about was how scared Gran might be, and how Bella must be pacing her porch, holding Scout back by the collar, waiting for the sound of my engine.

We rolled into town just as twilight turned to dusk.

Headlights swept across storefronts and closed diners. The general store was shuttered. The sidewalks were empty. Our tires crunched on gravel as I pulled into the lot across from the post office and killed the engine.

Bella was already there. Scout barked the moment he saw me, practically launching himself from the front seat of her car.

I caught the dog one-handed and wrapped my other arm around Bella as she collided into me.

“Nothing?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

She shook her head against my chest. “I checked everywhere. Grocery store. Library. Even the feed store. No one’s seen her.”

“She had the car?”

“Yes.”

“And no one’s reported an accident?”

“No.”

I clenched my jaw and turned to my men.

“Bullet, take Bear and check every back road and hiking trail on the south side. Tarak, you head up to Miller’s Hollow and circle back. River—hit the ranger station. I don’t care what strings you have to pull, get a grid map and start plotting every possible route out of town.”

“What about you?” Bullet asked.

“I’m going up the mountain,” I said. “I know where she likes to go.”

“And me?” Bella asked.

“You’re staying here.”

Her eyes flared. “The hell I am.”

“Bella—”

“No. I can’t just sit here and wait.”

I grabbed her shoulders, my hands rough but steady. “If something’s out there—if someone’s out there—I need to know you’re safe. I can’t have you running through the woods in the dark while I’m trying to find her.”

Her mouth pressed into a hard line. “Then let me help at base. Let me organize. Give me something.”

I nodded. “Okay. Stay here. Talk to the deputies. They’re cutting through red tape for me, but they’ll need someone local to work with.”

“I can do that,” she said, standing taller.

I kissed her forehead and turned to my brothers. “Ride hard. Ride smart. Call me if you see anything—tire tracks, fabric, a damn grocery bag in a ditch. We don’t stop until we find her.”

They nodded and peeled out in different directions, engines snarling like war drums.

I took the winding road up the north ridge alone, the sky dark above me, stars flickering like dying candles. My headlight cut through the brush, every tree branch a ghost, every shadow a threat. I rode slower now, scanning both sides of the road.

“Come on, Gran,” I muttered. “Talk to me. Where the hell did you go?”

At the first switchback, I stopped and climbed down, flashlight in hand. I scouted both sides of the trail, calling her name until my throat went raw.

Nothing but wind and the distant howl of a coyote.

I checked the old lookout point. The stream trail. The wildflower field she used to pick from. The bench under the sycamore tree.

Still nothing.

An hour passed. Then two.

And then the call came in.

“She’s not up here,” Bear’s voice crackled through the line. “But we found tire tracks near the old orchard road. Looks like someone turned around in a hurry. Could be her.”

I gunned the engine and headed that way.

Minutes later, I found them—deep ruts in the dirt, like a car had skidded before veering off course. I followed the trail with my flashlight, heart thudding.

And then I saw it.

Her car. Nose-down in a shallow ditch. Empty.

“Gran!” I shouted, bolting toward it.

No blood. No broken glass.

Just her purse, her sweater draped over the passenger seat, and an open notebook with her chicken-scratch handwriting listing groceries and a reminder to buy Bella more peppermint tea.

I called her name again. And this time—this time—I heard it.

A faint sound. Weak. Cracking through the brush like a dry leaf underfoot.

“Over here!” I screamed into the radio. “She’s close! She’s alive!”

I crashed through the woods like a wild animal until I found her, slumped against a tree, confused and shivering, but alive.

“Logan?” she whispered, blinking up at me. “Did I… did I get lost again?”

My throat closed up. I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms, holding her like something holy.

“You’re safe now,” I said. “You’re coming home.”

And this time, I wasn’t letting anything take her away again.