The Missing Pattern

No Turning Back Part 12

The air in the parking lot felt like a suffocating shroud, thick with the weight of impending doom. As the hospital doors slammed shut behind us, the finality of the sound echoed deep in my bones. It was as if the building itself was trying to keep me trapped in its sterile, suffocating embrace, but I wasn't having it. The girls were still out there. I wasn't anyone's patient—not while there was still blood to be spilled and answers to be ripped from the shadows.

Calvin's hands were steady as he pushed my wheelchair, his grip firm but his pace quickening with every step. He wasn't just moving me to the car—he was running. Running from something, I could feel it in the tension in his shoulders, in the way his eyes flicked nervously to the dark corners of the lot. We weren't safe. Not by a long shot. The message that had come through Reese's phone still burned in my mind—Next time, no one makes it out. Whoever sent it was watching us, waiting for the moment we slipped up.

The sweat on the back of my neck wasn't from the drugs or the pain. It was the knowing. The gut-deep realization that whatever nightmare had been unleashed on us wasn't over. It was only getting started. And we were squarely in the crosshairs.

Calvin helped me into the car with the care of a man afraid I might break under his touch. I hated that look. Hated the sympathy in his eyes. I wasn't broken. Not yet. I wouldn't be.

The moment the door clicked shut, Reese slid into the front seat. Her face was like stone—grim, unreadable. She hadn't spoken since we left the hospital. But we were all thinking the same thing. That damn message. Whoever was behind this wanted us to come for them. They were daring us. But they didn't understand. This wasn't a game. Not for me. Not for any of us.

"Get us to the office," I rasped, my voice rough, coated in pain and anger. The fire in my veins hadn't died—it had only grown hotter.

Calvin didn't argue. He didn't question me. He just started the engine, and we drove into the night. The streets were eerily quiet, as if the city itself was holding its breath. The hum of the tires on the asphalt was the only sound that filled the car, and the tension in the air was thick, suffocating.

The message replayed in my mind, over and over, until I thought I'd lose my mind. *Next time, no one makes it out*. They weren't just threatening us—they were daring us to keep going. But they didn't understand. I was already too deep into this. There was no backing out now.

We reached the office, the familiar, stale air of the building offering no comfort. I moved quickly, my legs unsteady, but there was no hesitation in my steps. Calvin was right behind me, his eyes scanning the corners like the shadows themselves might rise up and attack us.

When we entered the conference room, the rest of the team was scattered around the table, huddled like they had some semblance of control. The atmosphere was thick, heavy with anticipation. Lopez, our tech guy, was hunched over the projector controls, his fingers trembling as he clicked 'play' on the tape.

The screen flickered to life, grainy and distorted at first. My stomach twisted as I saw the familiar footage roll out. I'd seen enough of this kind of shit in my time to know exactly what it was. But this time—it felt different.

The video cleared, revealing a dark, damp room. My heart stilled. Two girls were huddled together, their bodies bound in the same way the others had been. Their eyes were wide with terror, their faces pale, the kind of fear that comes from knowing you're being watched by monsters. But the worst part? The worst part was the camera lingering on one girl, just one.

Kiara Richards.

The girl we thought we'd saved.

My breath caught in my throat, my chest tightening. She was still there. Trapped. Her wide eyes locked on the camera, pleading in a way that sent a spike of cold dread straight through me. I had to blink twice to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. This was no mistake. Kiara wasn't safe. Not by a long shot.

The tape cut to black, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as a voice cut through the static.

"You took ten, and now I will take ten more. Stop me if you can."

The voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was low, grating, filled with malice.

And then, a name. My name.

"Next time, no one makes it out, Harper."

The words hung in the air, thick with threat. The room was silent. I could feel the blood drain from my face, my fingers curling into fists so tight that my nails bit into my palms. My pulse pounded in my ears, and the rage that had been simmering deep inside me exploded to the surface. I could hear my heartbeat in my skull. I could feel the adrenaline rush through my veins like wildfire.

That was it. The turning point. I didn't care about justice anymore. This wasn't about taking them down the right way—it was about ending them, destroying them, any way I could. I wasn't stopping until I had every last one of them, dead or alive. I would make them bleed. I didn't care if it was legal. I didn't care if it was pretty.

They still had Kiara. And now, they had another girl, too. But the worst part? They were threatening ten more. For the ten we already recovered.

I was done playing by the rules.

But there was no turning back now.

I stood up, unsteady, but with the same fiery resolve that had gotten me this far. "Get me that fucking tape," I growled, my voice low, dangerous. "Find out who sent it. And then we hunt them down. No more fucking around."

Calvin, Reese, Lopez—all of them knew there was no room for negotiation. There was no time for a plan. It was time to act.

Reese stood, her jaw tight, eyes burning with a fury that mirrored my own. "We'll get them, Kitty," she said, her voice steady but laced with determination. "You're not alone in this."

I saw it in her—the same drive, the same rage coursing through her veins. But deep down, I knew what this had become. There was no way back now. No more laws to follow. No more lines to cross.

Calvin's voice cut through the chaos in my head, calm yet unyielding. "I got your back," he said, his gaze unflinching, locked onto mine with a promise. "I came here to bring them home, Harper. And I'm going to help you stop whoever is behind this."

His words hit like a shot to the chest. A promise. A commitment. For a split second, I let myself feel the weight of it, but it quickly dissolved, drowned out by the fire still raging inside me. Backup wasn't what I needed anymore. Blood was.

I barely spared him a glance, my words low, but deadly. "You better be ready," I muttered, my voice cold as ice. "Because this time, we're not just going after them. We're going to make them wish they'd never laid a hand on a single one of those girls."

Calvin didn't flinch. He nodded once, his expression hardening into something that mirrored mine—no hesitation, no fear. He was with me.

We were already in too deep. And now, there was no way out.