Page 194 of Split You Open

Unease creeps up my spine. If this is a trap, I’ve taken the bait—so why hasn’t anything happened?

Determined to find Blair, I force my feet to move to the next room. In the kitchen, there’s no one but I pause when I notice a change in the air. It’s so subtle, I didn’t notice it earlier, but in this room it’s hard to miss the smell of gas. My eyes slide over the old gas stove and—yup. The knobs have been turned to allow the gas out, but the burners aren’t on.

Scowling, I look behind me to make sure no one’s sneaking up, then head over to turn off the burners.

Leaving the kitchen, I go search the rest of the house for my godchild.

A few minutes later, the house has been cleared and there’s no sign that Blair was ever here. Outside, the gunfire continues and another explosion goes off, shaking the ground. Santi must be close by. I hope the others are too, for his sake.

I double check the house, determined to make sure I’ve checked every fucking square inch of this place. When I come up empty-handed again, I double back to see if there’s an entrance to an attic space.

There’s not.

“What the fuck?” I hiss under my breath.

Did I miss something?

Is she not here?

My heart leaps into my throat and for a second the hallway spins. Bile creeps up my throat. If Blair isn’t here, where the fuck is she? I’m not leaving until I have her back. If I have to tear the world apart to find my godchild, I’ll do it.

Suddenly my legs buckle and I have to reach out to steady myself. The hallway tilts and for a second, I think I’m going to gag.

Fuck.

The gas.

I need to get out of here.

But I’m not leaving without Blair in tow.

Shaking my head, I dispel the fear, anger, and despair to reassess the situation. Blair’s definitely here somewhere. Santi tracked Anchor’s phone to this location. There are guards posted all around the house. This has to be the right place.

There’s only one door I haven’t checked behind and that was at the front of the house.

My footsteps, still quiet, are quick as I retrace my steps as I head for the laundry room. Rather than stop in there, I grab the handle of the door beside it and yank it open.

On the other side of the door is the garage.

The air in the space is thick and cloudy but not enough to hide what’s inside. In it, sits an idling SUV. The interior lights are on and a back door is open. Beside it, and trailing up to the door I’m standing at, is a thick bloody trail.

At the end of it, bound and gagged, bloody and bruised, is Blair.

She’s laying on her side, her head twisted to look up at the ceiling. Her eyes, half open, are red and dull—trained on nothing in particular.

The world beneath my feet drops away. All the emotions that I’ve tamped down in order to focus on finding her, well up. A sound—somewhere between a groan of despair and cry of agony—spills past my lips. At the same time, a frisson splits down the front of my chest—my soul fracturing in real time. My heart crumbles as it implodes on itself.

She can’t be fucking dead.

Nonononononono!

I’m at her side in an instant. I drop to my knees beside her and, carefully, I roll her onto her back. A choked grunt stays locked behind my lips as I press my fingers to her neck and don’t immediately find a pulse.

After a second, though, I feel it. It’s faint, but there.

“Oh god,” I rasp as I get my arms beneath my godchild to lift her off the ground. “I got you, Blair. You gotta stay with me now, okay? Do you hear me? Stay with me, Blair!”

Just as I get to my feet, a door bangs open somewhere within the house and shouts from unfamiliar voices ring out.