The blood in my veins ran ice-cold as I gripped the phone tighter.
“Hello, love,” the deep, taunting voice purred.
Bryant Harlow.
I nearly dropped the phone.
My breath caught in my throat as his name echoed in my mind like a curse. My ex-fiancé. The man I had once loved. The man who had shattered me.
And now—he had Mae.
“I see you’re still as sharp as ever,” he mused. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.”
My nails dug into my palm. “Where is she?” I demanded, my voice raw with anger.
Another amused chuckle. “Oh, she’s around… But I have to say, I expected more from you, Geoffanie. Losing the trace so easily? Tsk, tsk.”
My vision blurred with rage. “Let her go, Bryant. She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this,” he countered smoothly. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”
I gritted my teeth. “Half-sister.”
“Still blood,” he said, his tone mocking. “And blood is such a powerful thing. It binds. It controls. It destroys.”
The line clicked. He was gone.
I stood frozen, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My breath came in shallow gasps. Bryant had Mae. And he was playing with me.
I refused to let him win.
Weeks passed. No body was found. No ransom demands. Just silence.
I was suffocating under the weight of uncertainty. Every night, I scoured every piece of evidence, searching for any trace of her. Every morning, I went to work, pretending I was fine.
Until the email arrived.
No sender. No subject. Just a single sentence.
"Your sister is in the forest."
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I packed my bag, took a leave from work, and drove.
The forest was dense, the towering trees swallowing all light once the sun dipped below the horizon. I set up a small tent and stayed, refusing to leave until I found her. Days passed in restless anticipation.
Then, one night—movement.
A rustling sound. Slow footsteps.
I bolted upright, grabbing the flashlight. My heart pounded against my ribs as I stepped outside. The beam of light flickered through the trees—until it landed on a figure.
Mae.
She was there. She was alive.
Tears blurred my vision as I rushed toward her. She was tied up, her face streaked with dirt and dried tears. Her clothes were torn, her frame trembling.
“Mae!” I choked, reaching for her restraints. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
But before she could speak, before I could even process what was happening—