CHAPTER 316: SPARE THEIR LIVES (2)

Nick’s POV

The security detail’s voice came clipped over the radio, and every word felt like a fist to my ribs. "Sir, we found signs—footprints, disturbed undergrowth. They lead to the road. Tire marks beside the shoulder: three vehicles. Two cars and an SUV. Looks like they parked, waited, then left."

Air left my lungs in a hot, metallic whoosh. My hands went numb on the flashlight as if the wood under my palms was the only thing keeping me tethered to the moment. Rage and panic braided together until I could hardly breathe. I wanted to smash something. I wanted someone to pay.

Vicky must have seen it on my face because her hand landed on my back, steady and sharp. "Nick, breathe," she said, voice hard with focus. "I will call Oliver. I’m sure he is still awake—he’ll pull CCTV from every intersection those roads feed into. We won’t stop until we get answers."

She was right, and the logic helped dredge me out of the swirl for a second. But it didn’t erase the way my chest ached. Katie, my girl, whether blood-bound or not, was out there; she must be scared right now.

And Georgia, my wife, was out there, too, and God knows how they are right now. I had sworn to keep them safe. I’d failed. The thought crawled under my skin and stung like cold iron.

"Bro," Liam said quietly, one hand on my shoulder. "Let’s go back, regroup. We need a plan."

I wanted to agree, to step away and breathe and get my head right, but my mind snapped to every possible angle—Nancy’s escape, Reagan’s odd look when he saw us with guns when we went to the backyard, the way his hands surrendered and trembled earlier. Things that could be a coincidence felt like threads pulling at a much darker tapestry.

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath that tasted like battery acid and wet leaves. It did nothing to calm the heat in my veins.

Something broke. I couldn’t stay calm anymore. I snapped!

I lunged forward, grabbed Reagan by the collar with one hand, and slammed him against a tree, the bark scratching at the back of my fingers. The barrel of my pistol pressed against his throat—cold metal, the only voice I trusted in that instant. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!" I barked. "DID YOU KNOW THIS WOULD HAPPEN? WHY DID YOU REACT THE WAY YOU DID EARLIER?!"

"NICK! Oh my God!" Vicky cut across me, sharp with alarm.

"Bro, put the gun down, let’s talk—" Liam tried to mediate.

The guard nearest us spoke up in a low, professional voice, "Sir, think it through. Put the weapon down. We need answers, but not like this."

No one moved to take the gun from me. No one dared. Adrenaline painted every edge too raw.

Reagan’s hands shot up, palms out. His face was a pale, taut mask. Fear lived there, raw and obvious but under it, something else flared for a heartbeat: a flicker I couldn’t read, and that unsettled me more than his fear did. Guilt? Panic? Or a calculation?

He choked out, voice shaky, "I-I... Nick, I didn’t— I didn’t do anything. I was on the phone... my lawyer— I swear."

He looked small under the torchlight, but the doubt it planted in me didn’t vanish. Not with Georgia and Katie unaccounted for and the night swallowing our answers.

The woods around us seemed to hold its breath. The radios crackled. Somewhere in the dark, a guard shouted coordinates; somewhere else, Alfie was running back to the house to pull the CCTV footage. But in that second where my gun pressed hot and unforgiving against Reagan’s skin, all I heard was my own blood and the one ugly truth I couldn’t let go of: someone had taken them, and I don’t trust this man who called brother in front of everyone. I would claw this world apart to get them back.

"Nick, please... I won’t fight you. I had nothing to do with this. My reaction earlier was for another reason. Please, just listen—"

I jerk him closer by the collar until his face is a breath away. The muzzle presses harder against his throat. Everything inside me has gone hot and blunt; the careful restraint I’d clung to all this time snaps like wire. I’m not thinking. I’m only feeling—fear, fury, the sick, animal need to drag Georgia and Katie back into the light.

"FOR WHAT FUCKING REASON WAS THAT?!" I roar, the words tearing out of me. "YOU, YOUR MOTHER, RAYMOND, NANCY, AND YOUR FIANCEE ARE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO COULD DO THIS! Those are the names on my list. If it isn’t you, then you know something. YOU’RE HIDING IT!" My voice broke on the last word, and I almost didn’t recognize myself.

Footsteps and shouting explode behind me. "NICHOLAS KNIGHT! Put your gun down right now! Release your brother!" Dad’s voice rips through the trees. I look at him, hard and wild, but I didn’t lower the weapon. Not yet.

Instead, my anger flares hotter. "HE IS NOT MY BROTHER!" I shouted back so loud it jolts the night. "If he’s involved, I’ll kill him myself!"

"Nicholas—" Dad tries to reason, his tone steady with command. "What if he’s innocent? You’ve ruined this without cause. Put the weapon down. Come inside and let’s talk. Oliver’s on his way. I’ve already alerted the police and my team. My assistant is now calling everyone who could help us."

The forest seems to close in for a beat. In the shadowed ring of flashlights, someone begins to sob. Sarah and Violet appear behind Dad; Violet collapses to her knees, hands clasped together as if she can glue the world back together with prayer.

"Nicholas, please," Violet’s voice is raw. "Put the gun down. I swear to you—my son did not do this. If he did, take my life instead. Please."

Sarah’s voice cuts through, steady but pleading, crying. "Nick—listen. Reagan is innocent. If we have suspects, look at Nancy or Raymond. They had motives to do this. Reagan and I are trying to start fresh. We have nothing to do with this. Put the gun down—we need to work together, not tear each other apart."

Her words land like cold water. My fingers unclench, the gun suddenly unbearably heavy in my hand. The heat in my chest starts to cool, replaced by a raw, gnawing shame.

Sarah’s right. This isn’t the time to play judge and executioner. I’ve let everything I love slip through my grip, and I nearly crushed a man who might be telling the truth.

Slowly... too slowly for my taste, I ease the barrel away from Reagan’s throat. My breath is loud in my own ears. I can still feel the phantom of the temptation to pull the trigger, the violence humming under my skin, but beneath it all is one relentless, ugly fact: Georgia and Katie are missing, and pointing fingers won’t bring them home.