Page 135 of Drowning in Darkness

I’ve slept maybe two hours over the last forty-eight, but I’ve never been more clear in my intentions.

I growl low and take a seat in the chair opposite hers. We’re in one of my safe houses, but this time, it’s in New York—the last place Christopher was spotted, and the city he most often frequents after taking a victim.

“Tell me again what happened with the trackers,” I snap. Camryn stays silent. She doesn’t need to go over it, really. We already know, and she’s done placating me. Two of the trackers were dropped in the parking lot, likely after Christopher searched her. We found the third floating in a puddle of vomit about an hour from Kieran’s home. It’s clear Stephanie swallowed it in the hopes of us following her. Too bad throwing up fucked up that plan.

Every minute Stephanie’s missing is a ticking time bomb toward her death. I’ve resisted picking up the phone because right now Christopher thinks he has my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s sister, when what he really has is my heart—and I can’t reveal that.

Camryn’s phone lights up with Agent Thompson’s name. She swipes to answer it, putting it on speaker. Thank fuck.

“I got him,” he says.

My spine straightens. “Where?”

“New York, as we thought. I’m sending you the location where we’ve spotted him coming and going over the last few hours.”

Her phone dings with a message.

“Who’ve you told?” I demand, frowning at the familiar address as my guts clamp down. What the fuck?

“No one in the bureau. It’s off the books as discussed. I have backup, though. I can meet you there in forty minutes.”

Camryn nods, looking away from the address with it already in her memory. “Good. We’ll probably beat you there by ten.”

“Fifteen,” I mutter. “But whatever you do, don’t go in without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Thompson says. I’m grateful, but I can’t shake the dread skating down my spine when I think about where we’re going. How is he even there?

Thompson and Camryn talk a few details out before she snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Hey, earth to James. Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

I shove her hand away. “Because that address isn’t one he should even know. No one should.”

She furrows her brow, leaning in. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s Jonathan’s home. His real one. The one you guys never knew about. The same one I torched after his death.” I scrub my hands down my face. That house held too many memories, too many deaths, too much pain and suffering, which is why I burned it to the ground. Christopher must have rebuilt it, and now Stephanie is trapped in that house of horrors. It had been Jonathan’s private playground where he delighted in making women bleed, and now Christopher’s using it for the same goddamn thing.

“I have to wonder if…” My spine tingles. I almost don’t want to vocalize it, as if doing so will make it real. “If Christopher is gunning for the cult leader’s spot. He’s got to know I’m compromised by now, and he’s staking his claim by taking that house, telling everyone he’s top dog now.”

“That cult is going to crash and burn once he’s taken care of and we get Stephanie out. He can want to rule all he wants, but it’s not going to happen.”

I look up at Camryn. I’ve silently appreciated working with her all this time, but now? I’m fucking thrilled she’s on my side. Because she’s right—Christopher won’t be reigning over shit. He’ll be dead.

Camryn drives. It’s her fucking car, and I think she knows that if I were behind the wheel, we’d be going at least a hundred miles an hour. In any case, she zooms through the back alleys and side streets, avoiding traffic lights and densely packed areas so that we reach Christopher’s little hideout twelve whole minutes before Agent Thompson arrives.

And he’s got a crew of ten guys who look like they terrify folks for a living along for the ride.

We gather in the van that Camryn has been using, and it’s a tight fit, but no one cares. She’s parked it out of sight of the building to ensure Christopher doesn’t see us coming. I pull out a massive piece of paper, the other side displaying the layout to Kieran’s house. Now, I use it to sketch out the basic blueprint of the building waiting for us, provided he hasn’t changed the layout too much. But if he’s gunning to take over the cult, then I’m willing to bet he’ll have built it back the way Jonathan had it originally.

“The main entrance is here, and we probably want one or two of you stationed there in case he tries to get away through the front.” I point to the back door of the house and then to the shed entrance that goes right to the basement. “This is the rear entrance and basement access. We send men through both simultaneously. Quiet. I don’t want Christopher to know we’re there until it’s too late.”

The men take in the information like trained professionals, and I take a modicum of comfort in that.

“I’m going to assume he’s holding the girls in the basement. I have no idea what changes he’s made to the house since I set fire to it, but it certainly looks better than it did the last time I saw it.”

Camryn puts her fingers on the middle of my drawing, and everyone looks at her. “Don’t do anything stupid and don’t risk the women he’s captured. They are our top priority. Teams of two, one focused on rescue, the other on capture. Understood?”

A chorus of yeses fills the van, and I clench my jaw. My priority is Stephanie and killing that motherfucker.

Camryn hands out earpieces, and we all put them in. “Call out if you spot any sign of Christopher or the girls.” There’s a beat, a moment of stillness before all hell breaks loose. Then Camryn says, “Let’s go.”