Page 35 of Undying Resilience
Elliot throws his hands up in exasperation. “And if he decides to retaliate by doing something worse to Wren? What then, Rhett? Christ.”
“We have to do something.”
“We have to be careful,” Elliot says. “Jordan wants revenge. This isn’t your typical hostage situation. He’s not going to give her back in exchange for something. He’s trying to lure us into a trap to kill us all. Although right now he’s unnecessarily drawing things out.”
“Right now, all he’s doing is hurting her,” I shout. “We have to find her, Ell.”
“I know,” he says gently. “We will.”
“But we aren’t,” I grit out. “We’re just sitting here. Doing fucking nothing.”
“No, we’re not.” He points to my laptop. “You’ve gone through the properties?”
“Yes, but—”
“Which ones fit our criteria?”
With a grumble, I pull up the three properties I’ve marked as the ones Jordan is most likely to be hiding Wren at. They’re all in different directions. If splitting up was an option, it wouldn’t be a problem. But Jordan has a lot of resources at his fingertips. There’s no way he won’t be guarding the house. Splitting up could be a deadly mistake.
“We start with this one,” Elliot says, pointing to a house that looks like it’s in the middle of a vineyard. “You get the equipment. I’ll memorize the layout of the house and get Wren a change of warmer clothes. Oh, and can you find Oliver?”
“On it.” I’m already halfway out the door when Elliot stops me.
“Rhett. We can’t just storm the house. We’ll have to take out everyone who’s not inside. And then we’ll need to enter and find her strategically.”
My hands curl into fists. I told Wren I’d burn the world down to find her if I ever needed to, and I fucking meant it. But everything Elliot is saying makes sense. I hate it, but he’s right—about Jordan’s girlfriend, about how we should get her from the house, and about most things in general.
This is a time to exercise caution. The last thing we want is Wren getting caught in the crossfire. And if we barge into the house unprepared, we could get killed before we can get to her.
“I won’t do anything rash,” I say, walking back over to him. I press my lips to his in a short yet reassuring kiss. “I promise.”
With a sigh of relief, he runs his hands down my arms, like he needs the split second of touch to stabilize him. “Thank you.”
With that, we head our separate ways. I call Oliver, but he doesn’t answer. When I check the garage, his car is still gone.
I try calling him again, and then again after a few minutes.
Nothing.
Fuck.
Worst-case scenarios run through my head as I load up Elliot’s SUV. By the time I’m done, I’ve worked myself back into some of my worst memories.
Me peering through a crack in a door, watching Oliver as he claimed to be working alone. The gun pointed at his head. The utter helplessness that almost overwhelmed me in the moment.
Not again. I can’t go through that again.
But apparently, my thoughts aren’t enough to keep reality from crashing in. My phone vibrates in my pocket. As I read the text, my blood runs cold.
“Ell,” I shout, my eyes still glued to my screen. And then I’m running through the house, trying to get to him faster.
Because we can’t waste a single second.
Chapter eleven
Oliver
The drive from the airport to Evolve is only fifteen minutes, but it feels like an hour. I’m operating on a hunch, but if Ludo knows where Wren is—and I bet he does—then he might be our best bet to getting to her the fastest. The thought doesn’t do anything to soothe the anger expanding in my chest, though. Because if he knows where she is, then why the fuck hasn’t he given us a heads up yet?