Page 175 of Knot By Design
Norah slides into the passenger seat beside me, hands shaking as she fumbles with the seatbelt. I reach across and help her, fingers brushing hers, grounding myself as much as her.
Snow streaks past the windshield as I pull out of the driveway and head toward Maple Glen, tires crunching loud in the quiet night. The heater blasts hot air that smells faintly of cedar and cocoa and tension.
Jude keeps the phone on speaker.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Start again. From the beginning.”
Amber’s voice crackles through, high and breathless. “I don’t know what’s got into him. He left, Jude. And I—I thought starting over would be the best solution for all of us. I didn’t tell him we were here.”
Ryker leans forward. “How did he find you guys?”
“I don’t know,” Amber sobs. “He just showed up. He’s drunk. He’s yelling. He’s trying to break the door down.”
Norah’s breath catches beside me. I feel it like a knife.
“Is Maisie hurt?” Jude asks, voice controlled but tight around the edges.
“No. She’s hiding in the back room with me. Stella’s trying to keep Luke out. The dog went for him. Rufus tore into his arm when he tried to shove past the door.”
Good dog, I think grimly.
“Stay inside,” Jude says. “Don’t open the door for anyone but us. We’re ten minutes out.”
The call drops.
The truck feels too small suddenly. Too full of air and noise and panic.
Norah grips the edge of the seat, eyes forward, lips moving silently like she’s counting breaths. I place my hand over hers, feel her fingers curl into my palm hard enough to hurt.
“We’re almost there,” I say softly.
She nods, jaw tight.
Maple Glen is quiet when we arrive. Too quiet. The houses sit back from the road, lights dim, snow coating everything in a deceptive layer of calm.
The truck pulls up hard, tires skidding slightly, and we’re out before the engine fully cuts.
Luke is there.
He’s pacing in the front yard, jacket torn off and lying in the snow, one sleeve shredded and dark with blood.
His face is red and twisted with rage, eyes wild. He turns when he hears us, lips pulling back in a snarl.
“Where is she?” he slurs.
Ryker moves first.
He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t posture. He crosses the space between them in three long strides and drives his fist into Luke’s jaw with a crack that echoes off the houses.
Luke staggers, nearly falling, spitting blood into the snow.
Norah screams.
Luke swings back wildly, uncoordinated and furious. His fist cuts the air inches from Jude’s face.
The second blow lands straight into Jude’s nose, and we all hear the loud crack of his nose breaking.
That’s when I step in.
