Chapter 27 The Absence Of Fear
Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but a six year old girl staring down a serrated blade and refusing to blink.
I watch from the shadows of the willow tree, my fingers digging into the rough bark. The sight of Lily on that pier makes my stomach feel like it’s filled with jagged stones. She’s so small. The kidnapper’s arm is a thick, grimy band across her chest, pinning her yellow dress against his dark hoodie. Her pigtails are messy, and there’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but her chin is held high.
She doesn’t look like a victim. She looks like a queen being held by a peasant. It breaks my heart and fills me with a terrifying pride all at once. No child should have to be this strong. No child should have to learn the weight of their family name while a knife presses against their throat.
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow so I can stay strong. If Lily can do it, then I’m in no position to break down. I can’t.
Then, I see Alistair.
He takes a step forward, his hands open and empty. And then, he does something I never expected. He smiles.
It isn’t the cold, predatory smirk he uses in the boardroom and in almost all the other places that I’ve seen him. It isn’t the mocking twist of his lips he gave me in the cafe a few hours ago. This is something entirely different.
His eyes soften, the iron gray turning into something warm and liquid. The hard lines of his face melt away, replaced by a look of such profound, tender reassurance that it feels like the air has been sucked out of my lungs.
In that moment, he isn’t the CEO of Wolfe Global. He isn’t the man who nearly choked me. He’s just a man who loves a little girl more than his own life. My chest aches at the sight. I’ve spent my life looking for a look like that, a look that says you’re safe because I’m here. I never thought I’d see it on him.
I saw a look of safety on him the day he rescued me from the storage room, but it wasn’t this soft look. It was strong and intimidating.
But the moment is fleeting. As soon as he shifts his gaze from Lily to the man holding her, the warmth vanishes. It’s like a light being snuffed out. His face snaps back into a mask of lethal, unyielding stone. The predator is back, and he is hungry.
"What do you want?"
Alistair
The smell of the lake is stagnant, a mix of rotting algae and damp wood. It’s a distraction I can’t afford. My focus is narrowed down to the three inches of steel pressing against Lily’s jugular. The man holding her is vibrating. I can see the sweat slicking his forehead, the way his pupils are blown wide with a cocktail of adrenaline and terror. He’s a cornered rat, and those are the ones that bite.
"What do you want?"
"Ten million!" the man screams. His voice is a jagged, high pitched ruin. "Ten million in cash. And a chopper. On this pier in ten minutes, or I’ll open her up! I’ll do it, Alistair Wolfe! Don’t think I won’t!"
He jerks his arm, a frantic, uncoordinated movement. The blade slips, grazing the soft skin of Lily’s neck. A single, bright bead of crimson wells up and begins to slide down toward the collar of her dress.
The world turns a blinding, vivid red.
A pressure builds behind my eyes that feels like it’s going to shatter my skull. I want to leap across the gap and tear his throat out with my bare teeth. I want to hear the sound of his bones snapping under my boots. Every instinct I have is screaming for blood.
But I force my hands to stay open. I force my feet to stay planted. If I move, he’ll finish the job before I’m halfway there. I can’t lose control and put Lily’s life in danger, especially since she’s being so strong. I have to be the ice, even while my blood is a furnace.
"Ten minutes is a short window for that much cash, but I can try and make it happen," I say. My voice is a flat, dead thing. I sound like I’m negotiating a real estate merger, not my niece’s life. But I need to remain cool headed. "The money is being pulled. The chopper is being rerouted from the city heliport. Just keep the knife steady. You want to be rich, not a murderer. Dead men don’t spend cash."
I see Leo approaching from the tree line. Normally, another person approaching would spook the kidnapper but Leo is moving like a ghost and to anyone, he doesn’t have any evil intent. He has his hands raised as he comes. I don’t turn around. I don’t need to.
"Report," I mutter.
"The snipers we called as backup are stuck in the traffic from the bridge closure," Leo whispers. I can hear the strain in his voice. "The tactical team is fifteen minutes out. At the earliest."
We called them ahead to prevent any delay. Having them fifteen minutes behind because of traffic is crazy. The man on the pier just gave us ten.
I turn my head just enough to look at Leo. I don’t have to say a word. The look I give him is enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. He’s been with me long enough to know what that silence means. It means he’s failed me at the one time failure isn’t an option.
"Do better, Leo," I say.
He nods, his face pale, and retreats back into the shadows to scream at someone over his radio.
I look at Lily. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"
She nods, but I see it now. The tiny, rhythmic tremor in her small hands. She’s trying to be a Wolfe, trying to show him she’s not afraid, but she’s still just a child. She’s terrified. The sight of those shaking fingers is a fresh blade in my gut.
I slowly reach into my pocket.
"What are you doing!" The man spits.
"You said you wanted money. I’m trying to arrange that," I reply.
He looks at my hands and watches as I slowly pull my phone from my pocket, keeping my movements telegraphed and non-threatening.
I send a quick text to Leo. Come back.
When he reappears, I look at the kidnapper. "Let me talk with my guys and see how we can meet your needs."
I walk toward Leo carefully.
"I need a sniper rifle," I say. "I want it here, in my hands, in three minutes. Not four. Three."
Leo’s jaw drops. I can see him trying to process the request. He’s wondering if I’m going to take the shot. He’s wondering if I’m going to gamble Lily’s life on a marksmanship skill I haven’t used in a field operation in years. He’s in no place to be wondering or worrying or whatever it is that I’m seeing on his face.
"Sir, the risk—"
"Just do as you’re told," I snap.
I turn back to the kidnapper, raising my voice so he can hear me over the lapping water. "My man is getting the confirmation on the flight path! Just stay calm! We’re almost there!"
I walk back toward the pier, my mind already calculating the wind speed and the angle. I’ll take the shot. I’m the only one who can’t afford to miss.
Emily
I can see the shift in the energy on the shore. Alistair is talking to Leo, his back turned, but even from fifty yards away, I can sense the desperation. Whatever backup they were waiting for isn’t going to arrive in time. I saw the way Leo’s face fell, I saw the tick in Alistairs jaw and the tensing of his shoulders. They’re running out of time, and the man on the pier is looking more unstable by the second. He’s started talking to himself, his head jerking back and forth like a bird.
I look at the pistol in my bag. I can’t stay behind this tree. If Alistair tries to rush him, Lily dies. If they wait for whatever backup, the man might panic and pull the trigger on a whim.
I look at the water. The lake is dark, the surface covered in a thick layer of lily pads and floating debris near the shore. A row of old wooden pilings from a collapsed dock sticks out of the water, leading right toward the side of the pier.
I move.
I don’t go toward the shore. I move further down the bank, staying low in the tall grass until I’m well past the line of sight for the man on the pier. I slide into the water. It’s freezing, a shocking, bone deep chill that makes my lungs seize up. I force myself to stay under, only my nose and eyes breaking the surface.
The mud at the bottom is thick and slimy, pulling at my toes, but I keep moving. I use the willow branches that hang into the water as cover, pulling myself along. The weight of the gun in my hand is the only thing that keeps me focused.
I reach the first piling. It’s covered in green moss and sharp barnacles that scrape against my palms, but I hold on. I’m moving through the water toward the kidnapper’s blind spot. He’s so focused on Alistair and the bodyguards on the shore that he hasn’t looked at the water once.
I can hear his voice now. He’s crying.
"I just wanted the money!" he wails. "I wasn’t supposed to hurt her!"
I’m ten feet from the pier now. I can see the underside of the wooden planks. I just need to get to the ladder. If I can get a clear shot from the side, I can end this before he even knows I’m there. I pull my head out of the water a few inches, trying to gauge the distance.
Alistair
I’m scanning the perimeter, looking for the best vantage point for when Leo brings the rifle. I need height. I need a clear line of sight that isn’t obstructed by the willows.
My gaze drifts toward the lake, checking for a boat or a secondary threat.
I stop.
The light is nearly gone, the water a black, shimmering expanse. But there, near the old dock pilings, something moves. A ripple that doesn’t match the wind.
A head emerges from the water.
It’s small, dark, and wet. For a second, I think it’s a bird or a piece of debris. But then the light catches the curve of a cheek, the familiar, determined line of a brow.
It’s Emily.
She’s in the water, her dark hair plastered to her skull, her eyes fixed on the man on the pier with a terrifying intensity. She’s holding something above the surface.
My heart stops. She’s supposed to be in the mansion. She’s supposed to be safe.
How the hell did she get here? And what is she doing in the lake with a gun?