Chapter One Hundred Thirteen: No More Time
303 Words
-----Axtons POV-----
Emma was gone.
He’d torn up half the damn beach. Sprinted past vacationers and families and trash bins and dune paths, calling her name until his voice was ragged. Every second felt like a blade slicing deeper into his chest.
The place she vanished—right there by the rocks—was empty now.
No footprints.
No shell.
No Emma.
He stared at the bend in the shoreline like he could burn a path into the sand just by sheer rage.
Then he pulled out his phone.
Tapped the screen.
“Price,” he growled the moment the line connected. “I need the crew. All of them. Now.”
Price didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.
“ETA three hours,” he said. “Rourke’s closest. He’s rerouting to you now. Morgan’s grabbing gear. Silas is packing up.”
Axton paced, teeth grinding.
Silas.
His wife was heavily pregnant.
“She’s not coming,” Axton snapped. “Sierra stays. Silas too, if she needs him.”
“She told him to go before he finished the sentence,” Price said. “She gets it. We all do.”
Axton exhaled through his nose like a dragon barely holding fire.
The rage wasn’t clean. It wasn’t sharp. It was a boiling pit of lava under his ribs.
Someone had taken his daughter.
And whoever it was… they weren’t just going to die.
They were going to beg.
The sun was starting to set. He hadn’t even realized how long he’d been searching.
He looked toward the beach house, jaw flexing.
Helen was inside. With Lily. With Luca.
Hurting.
Waiting.
He wouldn’t make her wait long.
Because once the crew arrived?
They wouldn’t stop until Emma came home.
And every son of a b***h who stood in the way was dead.
- Writer
