Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“Yes. I hired one when Frankie went missing, too. Didn’t stop me from doing my own hunting.”
“And when we find this stalker?”
“No cops. No laws.” I edge closer, pushing against the intensity of his surly expression. “We’ll kill them.”
We stand in silence again, the photograph a fragile bridge between us. Kody’s eyes soften, just a fraction, but it’s enough. It’s a beginning.
A sharp ring breaks the moment. I pull my phone from my pocket, the name on the screen sending a chill down my spine.
I answer on speaker. “Carl?”
“Mr. Novak,” the security guard says. “We have a situation at the house. A package was delivered with the groceries. You need to see this.”
Kody and I exchange a glance as a jolt of adrenaline hits me. We lurch into motion, the dread between us growing as our footsteps pound against the gravel path.
In the kitchen, Carl stands next to a plain, brown box on the stainless-steel counter, the top already opened.
“I didn’t order that.” Oliver stands off to the side, his hand clutched to his throat and eyes wide with shock. “I found it with the delivery.”
Panic surges.
“Where’s Frankie?” I spin, searching for her.
“Here.” She steps in behind me with Leo at her back. Her forehead knits as she takes in the scene. “What’s wrong?”
“Sir.” Carl steps forward, concern etched on his face. “This is…delicate.” He glances at Frankie.
Too delicate for Frankie? That’s almost laughable. The horror she experienced in the past year would bring Carl to his knees. If anyone can handle it, she can.
“What’s in it?” My insides knot as I reach for the box.
“Don’t touch it without gloves.” Carl offers me a pair. “Fingerprints.”
Alarm bells ring in my head as I slide on the latex and glance at Kody. His gaze narrows, studying the package. It’s unmarked, with no labels or identifiers. Just an ordinary box.
“All right.” My heart thunders in my ears. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
I open the box carefully, peeling back the flaps. Inside, packed in dry ice, is a plastic bag. I wave my hand, the cold vapor swirling around my fingers as I reach in and lift the bag covered in frost.
“What is it?” Leo asks, his voice tense.
I squint, trying to make sense of the shape within the bag. It’s not immediately clear, just an ominous, unidentifiable object. Cold seeps through the plastic, chilling my fingertips, coming from something.
Something that turns my stomach.
I set the bag on the counter and use a knife to carefully slit the plastic, the icy vapor hissing as it escapes. The contents shift, revealing a glistening, dark red mass.
My lungs collapse as I realize what I’m looking at.
“It’s a heart.” Frankie steps forward, her face pale as her medical training takes over. “A human heart.”
A shudder runs through me, and my throat works, swallowing repeatedly against the rising bile.
I reach back into the box, my fingers brushing against something else. Another plastic bag, but this one contains a photo.
Pulling it out, I stare at the haunting picture, my blood running cold.
A man lies on the icy shore of a river, the rugged, frozen landscape around him stark and unforgiving. His hair is dark and tousled, his body, though pallid and lifeless, retains the tall, lean build of the Strakh family line.
What seals the identity beyond doubt is the blood-stained coat he’s wearing. A coat I gifted to Frankie years ago. The one he borrowed from her the day he jumped off the cliff.
“No.” She chokes, covering her mouth and shaking her head. “No, no, no!”
The image is clear enough to see the tear in the fabric where the rocks must have shredded it during his fall. But with the coat zipped closed, it’s impossible to know the condition of his body beneath and whether it still contains a heart.
His face, though partially obscured by snow and ice, is undeniably Wolfson’s, his shockingly familiar features passed down from me.
“Someone took this picture,” I rasp. “Someone who wasn’t Wolf.”
“Someone cut out his heart,” she whispers.
I go numb, the world around me fading to a dull hum.
My son.
The pain is too much, threatening to consume me, but I force myself to stay present, to be the anchor for my family.
Frankie staggers back, her face contorted in agony as she lets out a guttural cry.
“What the fuck?” Leo’s furious roar crashes against me, his body curving into attack mode.
Kody stands frozen, the photo of his mother still clutched in his hand, forgotten.
“It can’t be him. It can’t be.” She crumples against Leo, tears streaming down her face, her anguish more than I can bear.
I want to comfort them, to tell them it’s a joke, a misunderstanding, but the evidence is undeniable. I remain frozen, unable to process the horror before me. My heart feels like it’s being crushed in a vise.