Page 89 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter eighty-nine

I stared at the message, the attachment icon sitting there like a lit fuse. She gave me the one thing I hadn’t even asked for yet. The roadmap to her trust.

The call came in, short and sharp. Brooks’ voice. Frantic. Breaking in places I’d never heard.

“She’s unconscious. I can’t get to her. I need the Bentley unlocked. Now.”

My chest went tight. No breath. No thoughts. Just movement.

I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. She was in danger.

I opened the app and triggered the override with shaking fingers. My hands don’t shake. Not ever. But now they did.

I pulled up the car’s security feed. The Bentley had been outfitted with full in-cabin cameras. Front and rear. Motion-triggered. Audio synced . No blind spots. I made sure of it.

The front cam showed the airbag blown, smoke curling from under the dash. Rear cam. Her head was down, pressed forward. Blood on her temple. Blouse torn at the shoulder. One arm slack. Not moving.

The consent list stayed unopened.

I was in the car thirty seconds later. No driver. No security detail. Just me, the road, and a cold clarity I hadn’t felt in years.

I ran lights. Cut through traffic. Owned the road. It owed me time.

No radio. No phone. Only the sound of blood thudding in my ears.

She was supposed to be protected. I gave her the most secure car money could buy. And that same security meant no one could reach her when she needed it.

She will never drive herself again. She will never be unescorted.

She would have been safe if she had a driver. And still, some piece of shit found a way to get to her.

I should have overridden her. I should have stopped her. I should have.

I gripped the wheel tighter. I don’t spiral. I don’t panic. But when I blinked, all I could see was her mouth slightly open, head tilted at an unnatural angle, blood matting her hair.

The thought landed clean and cold. If she dies, I don’t recover from it. Not stronger. Not colder. Just gone.

The hospital came into view. Red lights flashing. Glass doors sliding open without urgency, without care. Another ambulance turned in ahead of me.

I spotted Bobbie already in motion. Scrubs on. Phone in hand. I should have called her. I didn’t. No time for anyone but Reagan.

I pulled into the fire lane and didn’t stop moving. Didn’t care about protocols. Didn’t care about security. Didn’t care about anything except her.

Because if I walk in and hear anything but stable, I will level the world.