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The drive was tense, but the new information gave me hope. We were closing in, and I could almost feel Heather’s presence. I had to stay focused as we waited, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation. I scanned the area repeatedly, the silence pressing in on me. We couldn’t afford to miss them, not now.
Then, in the distance, I heard the faint rumble of an engine. I signaled the team to get ready. The vehicle approached slowly, headlights cutting through the darkness. I peered through my scope, trying to get a better look.
"It's them," Ramirez whispered, his voice tight with urgency. "That's Tyler's car."
I nodded. The car rolled to a stop near the gas station, the engine cutting off. For a moment, everything was still. Then the driver's door opened, and Tyler stepped out, looking around nervously.
I caught a glimpse of movement inside the car—a shadow shifting. Heather. She was in there. My breath hitched, the need to act almost overwhelming.
"Wait for my signal," I whispered into the comms, my eyes never leaving Tyler. "We need to take them by surprise."
Tyler walked towards the gas station, glancing around as if expecting something. His father, Halverson, emerged from the shadows, meeting him halfway. They exchanged a few hurried words.
"This is it," I muttered. "On my mark."
Chapter Forty-Two
Heather
Tyler's grip on my arm tightened as he pulled me out of the car, his eyes darting around nervously. He was trying to keep it together, but I could see the cracks in his composure. His father, Halverson, was pacing nearby, barking orders into his phone. I was terrified, but I couldn’t let them see it. I needed to stay strong to find a way out of this mess.
"Move," Tyler hissed, shoving me towards the old gas station. I stumbled forward, trying to leave subtle clues—a scuff mark in the dirt, a torn piece of my shirt—anything that might help Danny find me.
Inside the gas station, it was dim and smelled like mildew. Tyler pushed me into a chair, tying my wrists to the armrests with rough rope. I winced as the fibers bit into my skin, but I forced myself to stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help me now.
"Why are you doing this?" I demanded. "What do you want from me?"
Tyler glanced at me, his expression conflicted. "Just shut up," he muttered, avoiding my eyes.
Halverson walked over, his face twisted into a cruel smile. "You really don't get it, do you? Your aunt was too nosy for her own good. She found out about our operation, and we had to silence her. You’re just a loose end."
My stomach churned with rage and sorrow. "You killed her because she found out you were smuggling drugs in the horse trailers? You’re monsters."
"She was a liability," Halverson said coldly. "And now, so are you."
I glanced at Tyler, trying to gauge his reaction. There was a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. I had to keep pushing, to find a way to reach him.
"You don’t have to do this," I said, my voice softer. "You’re not like him. You can still make this right."
"Shut up!" Tyler snapped, but there was a tremor in his voice. "You don’t know anything about me."
"I know you’re better than this," I insisted, leaning forward as much as the ropes would allow. "You don’t have to follow in his footsteps. You can choose your own path."
Halverson laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to mess with your head. We’ve got a job to do."
Tyler hesitated, his eyes flicking between me and his father. I could see the conflict tearing him apart. He wasn’t a monster, not like Halverson. There was still a chance, a small hope that I could reach him.
"You know this is wrong," I said quietly. "Please, Tyler. Help me."
For a moment, his expression softened, but then he hardened his features, turning away. "Just stay quiet," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Halverson’s phone buzzed, and he stepped away to answer it, leaving us alone for a few precious minutes. I took a deep breath, focusing on Tyler.
"Please," I whispered. "You don’t have to do this. Let me go, and we can figure this out."
Tyler’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was struggling. I pressed on, hoping to break through the walls he’d built around himself.
"Think about your life, your future," I urged. "Do you really want to spend it running, hiding, always looking over your shoulder? You can change things. You can do the right thing."
