Alicia's heart pounded as Brandon drove deeper into the darkening woods, far from any houses or streetlights. The bandana in her mouth tasted like dirt and fear. "This'll teach her and her dad to mess with us," Kyle said from the front seat, dabbing at the scratches on his face. "Military man thinks he's so tough. " Brandon killed the headlights before turning onto an even narrower trail. "Nobody comes out here anymore.
Not since they closed the old quarry. " Alicia tried to focus on landmarks through the window. A lightning-struck tree, a rusty gate, anything that might help her get her bearings. But the woods all looked the same in the growing darkness, endless walls of shadow and leaves. The truck jerked to a stop in a small clearing. Dead leaves carpeted the ground and moss-covered boulders loomed like ancient guardians.
Trevor yanked her out of the backseat, his grip bruising her arms. "Get the rope," Brandon ordered, and Mason pulled a coil from behind the seat. The same kind they'd used before, at the other tree. Alicia's legs went weak at the sight of it. They dragged her to a massive oak tree, its trunk wider than three men.
Trevor held her still while Kyle and Mason wrapped the rope around her chest and arms, binding her to the rough bark. The bandana stayed wedged in her mouth, but they added duct tape over it this time. Not so tough now, are you? Brandon paced in front of her, twirling his keys. Daddy can't help you out here.
No joggers going to find you this time, either. The others laughed, but there was an edge to it. They were scared, too, Alicia realized. Scared of getting caught, scared of her father, scared of crossing a line they couldn't uncross. So, what's the plan?
Mason asked, shifting from foot to foot. We can't leave her here all night again. Her dad Her dad isn't going to do anything, Brandon snapped. My father owns this town. The sheriff, the judges, all of them.
We just need to scare her good. Make sure she knows what happens when people like her don't know their place. Kyle pulled out his phone. We could take some pictures. Show everyone at school what a joke she is.
No pictures, Trevor said quickly. No evidence. Brandon grabbed Alicia's chin, forcing her to look at him. Maybe we should cut off some of that pretty hair. Send it to her daddy in an envelope.
Alicia held his gaze, refusing to let him see her terror. Inside, she prayed, not just for rescue, but for strength. The rope bit into her arms, and the tree bark scraped her back through her thin T-shirt, but she wouldn't cry. Wouldn't give them that satisfaction. This is messed up, man, Mason said suddenly.
We should just let her go. We made our point. Shut up! Brandon whirled on him. You getting soft?
Want to be her friend now? No, but But nothing. Brandon pulled something from his pocket that glinted in the dim light. A knife. We're going to make sure she never tells anyone what happened here.
Never gets her daddy involved again. The others backed away slightly. This was going further than their usual cruelty. Crossing a line into something darker. Brandon, maybe we should think about this.
Trevor started. I am thinking. Brandon's voice cracked with hysteria. Everything's falling apart because these people came here. He waved the knife wildly and even his friends looked scared now.
Alicia closed her eyes focusing on her breathing through her nose. She thought of her father's quiet strength. Her mother's gentle wisdom. They wouldn't want her to break. Back at the Carter house, Angela paced the living room checking her phone again.
No messages from Alicia. No answer to her calls. David, she called up the stairs. Something's wrong. Emma just texted.
Alicia never showed up for their movie night. David appeared immediately. Already changing from his casual clothes into dark tactical gear. His face had shifted into something harder. More focused.
This wasn't the loving father anymore. But the Delta Force Commander evaluating a threat. How long? He asked checking his watch. She left 40 minutes ago.
It's only three blocks David. She should have been there in 10 minutes. He nodded once pulling equipment from a locked cabinet. A tactical vest, communications gear, a handheld GPS unit. Call the police.
Make them take a report even if they resist. I need an official record started. Where are you going? Angela's voice shook. To find our daughter.
He checked a small tablet showing multiple blinking dots. I put trackers in her shoes after the first incident, and I've been monitoring Brandon's truck through a device I planted last week. They're moving off-road, heading toward the old quarry. David! Angela grabbed his arm.
What are you going to do when you find them? He paused at the door, his expression unreadable. Whatever's necessary. The gear bag slung over his shoulder clinked with unknown equipment as he strode into the darkness. Angela watched him disappear, then turned to make the call she knew would be useless.
The police wouldn't help, but they'd make a record. And when this was over, that record would matter. David moved through the darkness like a shadow, his boots making no sound on the leaf-covered ground. Years of special operations training had taught him how to become invisible, how to track prey that didn't know it was being hunted. The night vision goggles turned the world green, revealing every detail of the forest around him.
He checked the tablet again. The red dot marking Brandon's truck was stationary now, about half a mile ahead. The blue dot representing Alicia's tracking device was in the same location. His jaw tightened as he remembered installing the tiny devices in her shoes after the first incident, hoping he'd never need them. "Better safe than sorry," he'd told Angela.
Now those precautions were proving vital. The woods were silent except for the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of small animals. David moved steadily forward, his specialized gear allowing him to navigate the treacherous terrain without stumbling. Each step was carefully placed, each movement controlled. He'd done this countless times in war zones across the world, but never with such personal stakes.
A faint glow appeared through the trees ahead. Firelight. David dropped to a crouch, activating the directional microphone in his tactical gear. Voices carried through his earpiece, distorted but clear enough to understand. "This is boring. " Kyle's voice whined.