Page 80 of Ruthless Possession
I nod. I don't trust my voice.
Behind me, from the bedroom, I hear Charlie make a small sound in her sleep. Not a nightmare sound. Just the sound of a child shifting position, finding a new comfortable spot in a strange bed.
I turn from the window and go to her.
Evan Harris
I watch the taillights disappear down the mountain road, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. They moved her. They actually moved her. After everything I've done, after the message I left, they still think they can hide her from me.
The cold mountain air bites at my face as I lower the binoculars. The cabin sits in the valley below, a small light burning in one window. My Charlie is in there, surrounded by those people who think they can steal what's mine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, another text from Randy asking where I am, when we're meeting up. I silence it without looking. Those three idiots I hired to create a distraction failed spectacularly. Not that I expected much from them. The young one especially, he looked ready to piss himself when I gave him his instructions at the bar.
I run a hand over my beard, feeling the rough stubble I've let grow. The police have my picture now, so I've had to change my appearance. Just temporarily, until I get Charlie back.
The binoculars reveal movement on the cabin's porch, a large man pacing, his cigarette glowing in the dark. They've got security. Of course they do. But they don't know what I'm capable of, how far I'll go to get what belongs to me.
She acts like I am not worthy to be in the same room with her precious little family. She has no idea what I've done for women like her, how I've made them pure, how I've saved them from their own weaknesses.
But Morgan is different. Because Morgan took Charlie. And Charlie is mine.
I slide down from my perch in the rocks, careful not to dislodge any stones that might give away my position. I've been watching this cabin for hours, waiting for them to arrive, mapping the approaches and escape routes. I know the terrain better than they think. I've hunted in these mountains since I was a boy.
And I know everything about her. I know everything about those bastards and their families too. Every single vacation home, every shed.
I had a feeling if they ran they would run to this cabin, because it's the closest and most secluded.
The two men left, Trenton and Matthew—the soldiers, the protectors. They think they're going to find me, but I'm already ten steps ahead. Let them chase their tails in town while I deal with what really matters.
I make my way back to where I parked my truck, hidden behind a dense thicket of pines. The engine starts quietly as I've had it modified to run almost silent. As I pull onto the narrow forest service road, my mind is already planning my next move.
The message with the deer head was just the beginning. A warning shot. Now they'll see what happens when someone takes what belongs to me.
I drive slowly, headlights off, using the faint glow of the stars to navigate the winding road. My hands are steady on the wheel. I've done this before, hunted those who thought they could escape me. The other women learned the hard way. Morgan will too.
The road curves, and the trees open up to reveal a small clearing where I've set up my temporary base. The tent is barely visible against the dark forest floor, and my supplies are organized with military precision. I've lived this way before, off the grid, self-sufficient. The police will never find me here.
I step out of the truck, breathing in the pine-scented air. This is where I belong, in the wild, away from the chaos and weakness of civilization. I've always been able to see clearly out here.
Inside the tent, I light a small lantern and spread a map across my sleeping bag. The cabin is marked with a red X, surrounded by notes about the terrain, the approaches, and the positions of the guards. I've been watching long enough to know their patterns.
Three men on the perimeter including the one with the cigarette, and two others who rotate every few hours. Inside, there are at least two more adults besides Morgan. And Charlie.
I trace my finger along the creek that runs behind the cabin. It's the weak point in their defense, they won't expect an approach from that direction. The water will mask any sound, and the dense undergrowth provides the perfect cover.
I've been patient for too long. The time for watching is over.
I reach into my pack and pull out the hunting knife, testing its edge against my thumb. It's sharp, razor sharp in fact. I've kept it that way since the first time I used it, when Sarah tried to take Charlie from me. She learned her lesson, just like the others.
Now Morgan will learn hers.
I pack my essentials: the knife, rope, zip ties, and the small bottle of chloroform I've saved for emergencies. I change into dark clothing, then apply face paint to break up the shape of my features in the darkness. When I'm finished, I'm barely visible even to myself in the tent's small mirror.
I douse the lantern and step back into the darkness. The forest embraces me like an old friend, the sounds of night creatures falling silent as I pass. They sense what I am—a predator in their midst.
I move silently through the trees, my steps falling where I know the ground won't betray me. The creek is my guide, its gentle murmur leading me toward the cabin. I can see the light in the window now, a beacon drawing me forward.
Charlie is in there. My Charlie. My daughter. My creation.
