The Secrets We Hide (The Four 2)

Footsteps descended the stairs, and once they hit the floor, I counted to five under my breath, then made a run for it. Scrambling up the stairs as fast as I could go, my ears ringing and my heart pounding, I reached out with my hands to touch the pitted metal surface of the hatch opening.

My fingers made contact, and at the same time I was grabbed around the legs and yanked downwards, my cheek smacking into cold stone as my face connected with one of the steps. Arms caught me, and I felt a sharp jab in my neck.

I knew nothing else.

FOUR

Two and a half days.

Sixty hours, give or take.

No Winter.

The four of us were going insane. Kinslee was blowing up our phones, wanting to know where she was. We’d told her Winter was ill and would be in contact when she was better—anything to delay her while we searched.

“Anything?” I asked Weston for the tenth time, and he shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes.

“Nothing.”

None of our contacts had been able to find any trace of Winter. Best-case scenario, she was still at the docks, and we’d somehow missed something important. Worst case—she’d ended up on the Argo Navis, which we still knew fuck all about. Or…no. I wouldn’t let my mind consider anything else.

Down in the basement gym, West and I spotted each other on the weights, both of us trying to focus on anything but the problem of Winter going missing. I’d never felt so fucking helpless in my life. Every minute we went without answers was another minute where she could be in danger, or worse.

“Car. Now.” Zayde burst into the gym, where I’d just started pummelling the punchbag, needing to take out my frustrations on something. Weston sat up from the weights bench, grabbing a towel, his eyes widening as he took in Zayde’s expression.

“What is it?”

“Docks,” he threw over his shoulder, already heading back up the stairs, and my stomach lurched.

Cassius pulled up in the same place we’d stopped last time, behind a black-and-chrome motorbike with a guy standing next to it. Lloyd “Mack” Mackenzie. An intimidating-looking fucker—shaved head, tatted up, dressed in bike leathers, a black bandana covering the lower part of his face. His dark eyes swung to us before his attention zeroed in on Zayde.

Zayde climbed out and went to speak to him, talking in low tones, then beckoned us over.

Mack met my eyes as I came to a stop in front of him. “Rich boy.” I nodded at him, clenching and unclenching my fists, on edge. He must’ve read the impatience in my eyes because he got to the point straight away. “The security guard was overheard arguing with someone on the phone earlier—another one of Creed’s boys was keeping an eye out. He didn’t catch the conversation, but he heard the guard say something about ‘holding the girl captive.’ Someone turned up at the gate, waiting to be let out, and he had to get out of there.”

He grabbed his helmet from the bike seat and straddled the bike. “I came by to check it out after hours, and the security guard is nowhere to be seen. Been watching the place for the last hour, and there’s no sign of him. If you want another look round, now’s your chance.”

I didn’t wait to hear any more. I ran towards the docks, Z, Cass and West right alongside me, as the bike roared off behind us.

We reached the empty guard hut, and Weston went straight to the camera feeds. “Gate camera’s still on the blink.” He shrugged. “Makes life easier. Just avoid these areas.” He cycled through the feeds, indicating the spaces the working cameras were pointing at, mostly facing the water.

“Let’s start at the building where we found Winter’s phone,” Cass suggested.

“Yeah. That’s what I think, too.” Fuck, my voice was coming out all hoarse. I gritted my teeth. We’d find her. There was no other option.

Stalking down the same corridor as before, I came to an abrupt halt, Cassius running into my back.

“Cade!” Weston’s harsh whisper-shout sounded close to my ear.

“I see it,” I muttered.

We stood over the body lying on the floor in front of us. I nudged it with my foot, carefully flipping it over.

I took in the details—a short, stocky guy, shaved head, a crooked nose, dressed in a black shirt and trousers, with a radio clipped to his belt. As I moved him, my eyes were drawn to the area just above his ear. The whole side of his head was caved in, a pool of blood spreading underneath. An iron bar lay discarded a few feet away, stained red.

The smell of blood filled the air, a coppery, metallic tang, catching in my throat.

I hoped like fuck that this blood only belonged to the dead guy. Winter…no. She was going to be okay. There was no other option.