Book Five: Chapter 85

“Who has her?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended. Mike leaned forward over the table, palms flat against the scarred wood, as if the answer might be etched there if he stared hard enough. His eyes were fixed on Emery, unblinking.

“Don’t know.” Emery’s voice cracked. He groaned and covered his head with his hands, fingers digging into his hair as if he could physically hold himself together. “There was an ambush,” he went on, words tumbling out faster now, guilt bleeding into every syllable. “They came out of nowhere. She sent me to get help. Told me not to argue. I wanted to help, I swear I did, but there’s nothing I could do!” He let out a broken sound that might have been a sob, his shoulders hunching inward.

For a moment, no one spoke. The only sounds inside the cabin were the crackle of the small heater and the distant groan of wind pushing against the walls.