Page 2 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

We watch in silence as she walks across the loading area, her head down, clearly upset. She pauses at the edge of the property, looking back at the warehouse once before continuing out of frame. The sight of her makes something in my chest contract painfully.

Even through the grainy footage, I can see the changes in her since this all began—the way she carries herself differently and the determined set of her shoulders despite her obvious distress.

Whatever happened between us in that flood has transformed her, just as it’s transformed me. I crave her more than ever now.

“Switch to the street view,” I suggest, leaning closer.

Arson types again, bringing up another camera feed. This one shows the access road outside the warehouse. Lilian appears, walking quickly now, arms wrapped around herself like she’s cold. Or scared.

“Wait,” Drew says suddenly. “Go back. There—that car.”

Arson backs up the footage slightly, and a black sedan with tinted windows appears at the edge of the frame, driving slowly along the access road. As Lilian walks, it picks up speed, pulling alongside her.

“Fuck,” I breathe as the passenger door opens and two men in suits emerge.

One approaches Lilian, who backs away immediately. There’s no audio, but her body language screams fear.

“Shit,” Arson says, his voice tight.

I cast him a sharp glance. “You know them?”

He ignores me, his gaze intent on the screen.

The second man moves behind her, cutting off her escape route. The first says something, gesturing toward the car. Lilian shakes her head vehemently. Then the second man grabs her arm.

“No, no, no,” I mutter as she struggles briefly before being forced into the vehicle. The car pulls away smoothly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I curl my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The image of Lilian being manhandled and forced into that car while I sat helpless in a cell burns like acid in my veins.

If they hurt her...

“Who the fuck was that?” Drew demands, anger and shock in his tone.

“My backers,” Arson says, voice flat with controlled rage, his fingers flying across the keys as he fiddles with something. “The men funding this operation. I’ve been... off schedule lately. They aren’t very happy with me.”

“Your backers just kidnapped Lilian?” Drew grabs Arson by the shirt, hauling him up and shoving him against the wall. “Backers for what? What the fuck? What have you dragged her into? She’s innocent in all of this.”

I move to separate them, surprising myself when I pull Drew off him, versus joining him in the destruction of my brother. A zing of jealousy zips up my spine. Why does Lilian matter to him? “What the fuck do you care so much about Lilian for? She isn’t anyone to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then whispers, “You’re right. She isn’t anyone to me, but she’s something to you. We all knew you were obsessed with her from your first interaction. All that cold indifference... too much indifference.”

I ignore Drew and direct my attention to Arson. “Do you know where they might have taken her?” Forcing myself to remain calm despite the terror clawing at my chest is difficult. I can only imagine what she’s going through, the pain she’s suffering because of us.

Arson nods his head. “I have a few ideas. They own properties throughout the city. Places they use for... sensitive discussions. They’ve likely taken her to one of those locations.”

“How dangerous are these men?” Drew asks, straightening his shirt as the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

Arson’s expression darkens. “Very dangerous. Especially when they think someone has compromised their investment.”

“And has she?” I ask, already knowing the answer but hoping he says no.

“Yes,” Arson admits, turning back to the monitors. “It’s because of her that the entire plan has changed. Initially, it was about revenge, but now I yearn for something more than that. They see that. They know it’s because of her, and they will do anything to ensure we stay on task.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, unexpected and revealing. I file it away for later examination, focusing instead on the immediate problem.

Drew studies him, then steps away. I keep my eyes on Drew, though, and I spot each emotion as it crosses his face, born from years of friendship and playing together on the football field. He feels guilty, and I can use that.

“And how the fuck do we find her?” I ask. “These are your guys, you know them better than either of us. What do we need to do to get her back?”

Arson pulls a phone from a drawer—not his usual one, but something older and more basic. “There’s a number. A direct line. But using it means we are on the vulnerable end of the negotiation.”

“I don’t care,” I say immediately. “Call them.”

“It’s not that simple,” Arson warns. “These men—they don’t operate like normal people. They have their own rules and codes. If we go charging in...”

“They might kill her,” Drew finishes.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath.

The fear hits me like a physical blow, followed immediately by white-hot rage that needs somewhere to go. I turn on Arson, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.

“This is your fucking fault,” I snarl, inches from his face. “Your revenge, your backers, your goddamn games. Now she’s paying the price for it.”

He doesn’t fight back, which only makes me angrier. Just stares at me with those eyes that are exactly like mine, reflecting the same terror I’m trying to bury under fury.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says quietly, and the broken edge in his voice deflates some of my rage. “You think I’m not imagining what they’re doing to her right now?”

I release him, stepping back, hands shaking with the need to hit something, to break something, to make someone else hurt as much as the thought of Lilian in pain is destroying me.

The brutal reality settles over us, silencing the room.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to push away the images my mind conjures.

Lilian was terrified, hurt, and used as leverage.

When I open them again, I find both men watching me, waiting for something.

..another explosion or for me to finally break down.

I don’t know what the fuck they want from me.

It’s strange—after weeks of powerlessness, of being the captive rather than the captor, they’re looking at me for direction now. Like they expect me to have a plan. To take control. To be the man I was before all this.

The irony doesn’t escape me. Before my captivity, I was becoming exactly what our father wanted—calculated, ruthless, focused on the Hayes legacy above all else. Well, focused on destroying it, but my father didn’t need to know that until it was too late.

Now, stripped of everything, I’m finally acting out of genuine conviction rather than revenge.

“Fine, then we need a plan,” I say, pushing aside the fear threatening to overwhelm me. “And we need it now.”

Arson looks at me, then at Drew, calculation evident in his expression. “They’ll expect me to come alone. To fix the problem and get us back on schedule.”

“Which means what?” Drew asks.

“Which means,” Arson says slowly, “they will be expecting me .”

Our eyes meet again, identical faces reflecting identical determination. For the first time since childhood, we’re completely aligned in purpose if not in method.

“We need weapons,” I say. “Information. Floor plans of wherever they’re keeping her. Can we get her out while you’re distracting them?”

“No, they will just kill all of us and do something else. We have to give them what they want…the destruction of Richard and all of the Hayes’s influence and business.”

“I don’t care what we have to do. Whatever gets her out safely.”

I don’t care if it means giving up my father and my relationship, such as it was, with him. That was never real, anyway. Not like Lilian is real. Even after repeatedly pushing her away, I know her feelings for me—her love for me—are there, constant, unchanged, unmoving.

I can’t say the same for my father.

Arson nods, already shifting toward another cabinet. “I can get it. I can call them and then…see what they want. Give it to them in exchange for her. Maybe buy us some time. I’ll walk into Richard’s office right now and put a bullet in his brain if they’ll release her.”

“Fine by me. It won’t change shit between us, but if it means they release Lilian, I’ll work with you to get it done,” I agree coldly.

Drew glances between us, shaking his head in disbelief. “You two are seriously fucked up, and you have some serious shit to work through, shit I want nothing to do with, but I will do whatever I can to get Lilian back. If only for not getting her out of his shit show sooner.”

“Great, then let’s get started,” Arson says, pulling out a laptop and a tablet. “Because every minute we waste is another minute she’s with them. And these men aren’t known for their patience.”

I sink into a chair beside him, pushing aside exhaustion, hunger, and the burning hatred that’s defined me for months.

My body bears the evidence of captivity—weight loss, muscle atrophy, the lingering weakness that comes from confinement—but my mind feels sharper than it has in years. Focused. Clear.

Lilian’s face appears in my mind—not the frightened figure from the security footage, but how she looked at me in those final moments before the flood, when all pretense was stripped away. When I finally stopped lying to both of us about what I wanted. What I felt.

I owe her more than I can ever repay, and God knows she deserves better, but to let her go would be like ripping my still beating heart out of my chest, and I won’t do that.

I can’t. I need to get her back and protect her, no matter what the cost. Everything else—the betrayal, the revenge, the eventual confrontation with my so-called friend and brother—all of that can wait.