Michael’s POV
Michael slammed the door to the motel room behind him, the flimsy wood shaking under the force.
He threw off the hoodie and paced the narrow space, his jaw tight and fists clenched. The adrenaline was still pumping, but the failure grated deeper.
So close.
He should’ve had Ethan in his arms by now. Should’ve been halfway out of the state.
But no, those Bennett bastards were a step ahead.
Cameras.
Surveillance.
They were protecting her like a prize they hadn’t earned.
He stared at the wall for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to sit. Rage was useless right now.
What he needed was patience. Precision.
He pulled out his burner phone and tapped through a hidden folder of photos he’d taken over the past month. Candid shots. Blurry zooms thr
