In the video, Hazel faltered when she skated closer—she recognized Max, but she was too far away for Wyatt to read her expression. Wyatt’s heart pounded.
“We don’t have to watch,” Raph said, glancing at him.
Wyatt shook his head. “I—I should.”
Hazel made to skate backward. Then she paused, as though something Max said had stopped her. And Max continued talking, that slimy jerk. He opened the car door, and Hazel turned. Max pounced on her, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her into the driver’s seat. Wyatt’s blood turned cold. His hands sweated, and his ears rang.
In the car, Hazel squirmed, trying to push herself from the seat. Max caught her knees, rolled her onto the passenger seat, and got into the car, closing the door. Then he drove out of the video, Hazel kicking at him.
How badly did he hit her, after she’d kicked at him like that?
Wyatt shook, the phone falling from his fingers onto the center console. He couldn’t breathe. Max had taken his baby, and who knew what terror he’d unleash on her?
“That bastard,” Raph growled, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.
Raph became a blur, and Wyatt remembered rough hands on his hair, dragging him painfully backward. He remembered sharp slaps to his face, that left his ears ringing. His throat tightened, and he couldn’t breathe.
For an eternity, he shook, gasping, nausea swirling in his gut. He tried to tell himself things would be fine, but he remembered Everyone you love will die, and You’re a failure of an omega, and his brain couldn’t process past that.
“Wy,” Raph said, his voice faraway. “Wy, listen to me.”
Raph’s voice was familiar, calming. He slid his fingers against Wyatt’s palm, and squeezed his hand. Wyatt clung to him, tears tracking down his face, his body strung so tight he couldn’t move.
“Hazel will be fine,” Raph said. “We’ve got the police on the lookout for them. We’ve got enough evidence to lock that shithead away. You’re gonna be okay.”
Wyatt drew his knees up to protect his belly, hugging himself. He was a terrible father. He’d screwed up, and maybe there would be no patching this mistake. Maybe Raph was lying to him again.
“I don’t b-believe you,” he said. Raph sighed, rubbing Wyatt’s hand with his thumb.
“I’m here with you. Right now, I need to know where Hazel is. Can you do that for me? And for Hazel. I’d navigate your phone myself if I weren’t driving.”
Hazel needed him. I need to be stronger.
Slowly, Wyatt gathered the frayed ends of his courage, reaching down for his phone. He held his breath. Tapped away from the video. Then he pulled up the app with the map, looking for the red dot again. “They turned away from Highton. Due east. I... I think they’re getting off the highway.”
“Which town?”
“Rivervale.”
Raph’s eyes narrowed. “We’re almost there. Twenty minutes.”
“We caught up?”
“They might’ve stopped.”
Wyatt closed his eyes, trying not to think of all the worst-case scenarios. Raph hit the volume button. String music filled the car, followed by piano notes, and two familiar voices.
“I didn’t know Penny recorded us,” Raph said.
The music washed over Wyatt, gave him something to focus on. He listened to Penny and Hazel’s voices, and the lilt of the violin, the accompanying piano notes. Those had been better times, when the four of them had gotten together, Penny working with Hazel to harmonize their voices. And it was beautiful.
Raph reached over, holding Wyatt’s hand. Wyatt stared at his phone, praying that the red dot wouldn’t move, that they’d get there in time to find Hazel unharmed.
The next twenty minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. The red dot still hadn’t moved.
They drove down the exit ramp, turning onto a quiet street with no stoplights, only stop signs at the intersections. The buildings in Rivervale were old, with peeling paint and broken windows. Raph took the phone from Wyatt, zooming in on the map. “They’re close to a gas station. Think we’ll pull up there. That okay with you?”
Hazel was somewhere in this town, with Max. Wyatt hoped she was fine, hoped she wasn’t in pain. He nodded woodenly.
“Duck down when we get there,” Raph said. “Easier when they can’t see you. Send the map to Dad.”
“Okay.” His pulse throbbed. Wyatt tapped shakily on his phone.
They wove past abandoned buildings with boarded-up windows, and park benches with graffiti scrawled over them. Then the gas station came into view a block away, and Wyatt’s heart crashed against his ribs like an animal caged.
“I’m going to pull up real slow,” Raph said, rubbing Wyatt’s back. “How far can you get down?”
With his belly half the size of a basketball, not very much. Wyatt breathed shallowly, his palms sweating against his yoga pants.
“I’m crossing the intersection now,” Raph said. “Turning in. Shit, I see the car. No one in it. Turning around to the back—holy fuck.”
Wyatt’s stomach wrenched. “What?”
Raph cut the engine, flung the car door open. And Wyatt trembled, shaking so hard he couldn’t breathe. He had to look.
At the unloading area behind the gas station, Max had backed Hazel up against a wall, her hair clenched in his hand. He pulled her forward, as though he was going to slam her back into the wall.
“Hazel!” Wyatt cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the car door, his foot finding solid ground.
Raph sprinted, caught Max by the arm, and swung him around. He punched Max hard in the face, slammed him into the building, and punched him again, so Max’s skull cracked against the wall. Raph’s eyes blazed, and he punched Max in the mouth. Then the gut, so Max doubled over, trying to find his bearings.
Wyatt stumbled out of the car, his throat closing. Hazel had yanked herself away from Max. Her eyes were red, large hand prints on her face. Wyatt’s heart cracked. He staggered toward her. Hazel burrowed into his arms, her face crumpling. “Dad!”
“I’m sorry we got here so late, hon,” he whispered, burying his nose in her hair.
