With Love

Chapter Thirteen

**WARNING violent content may be shown in this chapter, please be advised.**

Look who updated the cover...Honestly love this one so much more, the red? The gun behind her back? OBSESSED!

I'm curious, how did you find With Love? Or even my profile? Let me know! (I ask because someone once found me on Pinterest of all places and I thought that was insane and completely random!)

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That night, Jasper burst into my bedroom without knocking. I sat at my desk, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes after the nap that lasted longer than I'm willing to admit. Guess the Doctor was right about this one.

I blinked up at my brother expectantly. When I decided he stared long enough I rested my elbow on the desk. "You can't just create a dramatic entrance and then not say anything, speak or get out."

"I may have found a lead."

The chair scraped back as I shot to my feet. "You should have led with that." I tugged my black jacket off the back of my desk chair and draped it over my shoulders, not slipping the sleeves on because of my arm sling.

Jasper led me out through the formal dining room, where a mahogany table that sat sixteen stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and into a closed-off space where Owen, our tech genius, had his stuff set up. Elijah stood behind him, watching the screens carefully.

Owen was roughly just under six feet, with dark skin and big muscles considering he doesn't do much more than type on computers all day. He barely registered my presence when I stalked in, shutting the door behind me, he only stared at the screen while simultaneously typing.

I came forward and rested a hand on his shoulder, peering over his head. "Show me what you found, Owen."

"Love, good to have you home," he nodded respectfully before pointing at the screen directly in front of him, the other two screens sat next to the original. "We've managed to narrow down this person's location by watching each street they turned on and hacking into those street cameras."

An entire grid of little videos lit up the screen and from closer inspection, each video showed a short clip of the figure clad in a hoodie walking through the streets of Manhattan. Turning a corner on one video only to reappear in perfect view on another.

"Do you see them here?" Owen pointed to the hoodie-clad figure briskly walking with the crowd down Fifth Avenue. "They take off their hoodie and trash it there," he pointed again, my eyes tracking his finger, "they have another thinner jacket on underneath and see them pull a baseball cap out of their back pocket."

I'm impressed. Owen tracked their every movement even with a costume change halfway.

"They're in that outfit until they walk into this abandoned building on Eighth Avenue. It used to be an old movie theater in the eighties but didn't survive the growth of technology," Owen informed us, typing something else and an old grainy picture of the same movie theater, only newer, showed up.

My jaw shifted in concentration. "Have they left at all?"

Owen shook his head. "I've tracked every entryway and nothing, they're probably hiding out in there."

I nodded my head slowly, my eyes surveying the live feed of the deteriorated building. Nobody walked in front of it, the neighborhood alone remained deserted from what I remembered, mostly filled with homeless people searching for shelter each night.

"Okay, thank you, Owen," I said, patting his shoulder, "Expect a raise once we get back." My brothers eyed me and I nodded, jerking my head towards the doorway.