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Now Bethany.

Not escalation for the sake of violence.

Pressure.

Applied carefully.

Exactly where somehing had already begun to fracture.

I knew that kind of deliberate warfare. You didn’t attack the strongest point. You found the weakness. Tested it. Withdrew. Watched. Then came back with more force.

My gaze shifted toward the house. Nyssa was somewhere inside.

Fuck.

If I was right, Bethany wasn’t the objective. She was the leverage. But leverage for what? That was the part I couldn’t see yet.

“Movement.”

Rafe.

I turned. He stood several feet behind me, phone lowered at his side. London remained closer to the house with his Sons. Colt and Carven had spread apart without discussion, one watching the road, the other the rear boundary.

Ghost stood near the gates. Brick farther down. Too many dangerous men. Not one useful answer.

Rafe’s gaze shifted past me. “That’s him.”

I looked back toward the road. Headlights. Two blurred circles at forest. Then edges. Hood. Windshield. A dark vehicle taking shape as it slowed for the turn. Guild. My pulse kicked. I started walking before the vehicle entered the driveway. Rafe followed and so did London. Nobody spoke as gravel cracked beneath the tires.

The vehicle rolled toward us. Slowed. Stopped and the engine died. Nothing happened. I stared through the windshield. Guild sat behind the wheel. Alone. No. Not alone. A shape occupied the passenger seat.

Small.

Still.

Too fucking still.

My chest tightened as Guild opened his door and climbed out, then closed it quietly. He looked at me. I’d known that man long enough to understand silence. This one frightened me.

Guild walked around the front of the vehicle. Slowly. Like sudden movement mattered. He reached the passenger side and opened the door before he stepped away.

He didn’t reach inside. Didn’t offer his hand. Didn’t tell her to come out. He simply… waited.

I stopped several feet away. Rafe stood beside me. London behind us. For several seconds there was nothing. Then a bare foot touched the gravel. My jaw locked. She’d taken her shoes, right? So where the fuck were they?

My gaze went to the bloody scrapes on her feet. My jaw locked as another followed. This foot far worse. But there wasn’t anything else. No blood. No torn clothing. No obvious wounds. No restraints. No bruising I could see from here. Relief should’ve come. But it didn’t. Because Bethany stood beside the open door and looked at six armed men as though none of us existed.

She didn’t search for danger. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask where she was. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her eyes stared somewhere beyond us. Empty.

I’d seen men come back from captivity. I’d carried some of them myself. Men beaten until their faces became unrecognisable. Men who screamed when the doors closed. Men who couldn’t remember their own fucking names. I knew shock. I knew terror. I knew what breaking looked like. This wasn’t any of them.

“Bethany.”

Nothing.

Guild’s gaze met mine. “She hasn’t spoken other than calling for Nyssa.”

My focus stayed on her. “Not once?”