Beyond Furious
HARDIN’S POV
Two days.
Two fucking days and still no trace of Ariana.
I stood in the middle of the station, fists clenched, jaw so tight I felt like my teeth might crack under the pressure. The overhead lights buzzed faintly above me, casting everything in a sterile, unforgiving glare. Officers moved around, some muttering, some working on screens, some shuffling papers like they weren’t all failing at their goddamn jobs.
I looked like hell. I felt like hell. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, stubble rough on my jaw, shirt wrinkled and maybe, sweat. I didn’t even care.
None of it mattered.
Ariana was still gone.
And these bastards had nothing.
“Hardin,” Ronny said from beside me, his voice low, like he was trying not to set me off again. “You need to sit. You need to breathe, man.”
I didn’t look at him. My gaze was locked on the interrogation room window across the hall. “I don’t want to fucking breathe. I want answers. I want Ariana back.”
“We’re gonna find her—”
“No, you say we’re going to find her. But it’s been forty-eight goddamn hours, and I’m standing in the middle of a fucking precinct that’s done nothing but chase its tail.”
Ronny ran a hand through his cropped hair, looking exhausted. “They’re doing their best.”
“Their best isn’t good enough,” I snapped.
A few heads turned. I didn’t give a shit.
Ronny stepped in front of me. “Look, I know how this feels—”
“No,” I said sharply, eyes locking with his. “No, you don’t. You have no fucking idea how this feels.”
He paused, jaw flexing. I could tell he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He just exhaled and looked away.
Good.
Because I was two seconds from punching something—or someone—and I didn’t care who got in my way.
I turned and started pacing again. Back and forth across the tiled floor like a caged animal. My blood was boiling, my body vibrating with adrenaline and rage I didn’t know how to release.
How the hell did Garry get out?
How the fuck was a man serving time just walking around like it was nothing?
I stopped mid-step and slammed my fist into the wall.
The drywall cracked.
A few startled gasps echoed behind me.
“Jesus, Hardin—” Ronny grabbed my arm. “You’re not going to help her like this.”
I yanked away. “You’re not helping her at all.”
His face darkened. “That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is Ariana disappearing off the face of the earth while the one man she was terrified of somehow slips out of prison, and no one seems to know how!”
Ronny didn’t reply.
Because he knew.
Because he’d seen the file just like I did.
Garry bribed a guard—some loser named Alvarez who apparently thought he wouldn't be caught.
And now Ariana was God-knows-where, and every second that ticked by felt like another slice across my chest.
I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t breathe.
I needed something to break.
To destroy.
To make the noise in my head stop screaming.
“Sir.” One of the officers approached me cautiously, like I was a bomb that might detonate at the wrong look. “Detective Muna wanted me to tell you the last satellite drone sweep turned up nothing near the highway. They’re refocusing the search to the eastern ridge.”
I stared at him.
He flinched.
Then I turned away, shaking my head.
Fucking useless.
I stormed out of the main lobby and into the tech trailer Ronny’s guys had parked outside the station. The air inside was cooler—metallic with the smell of wires and coffee and old sweat.
Dimitri was at a spot, hunched in front of his laptop, typing like a man possessed.
His fingers didn’t stop as I walked in.
“You better have something,” I growled.
He didn’t look at me.
“Dimitri,” I snapped.
“I said—” He lifted a hand. “Give me two more minutes. Almost there.”
“What does almost there mean?!”
“It means I’m about to make the system cough up something it tried real hard to hide.”
My heart stuttered.
I moved closer, eyes locked on the screen.
Flickers of code. Jumbled images. Blurry timestamps.
Then—suddenly—stability.
A partial frame.
An exterior camera. Dark trees. A white van in the corner. A timestamp. 3:12 AM.
Dimitri leaned in. “That’s from the buffer cache. Whatever scrubbed the footage didn’t hit it. I had to reroute through three subsystems just to—”
“Get to the point, Dimitri.”
He clicked a few keys.
The screen zoomed in.
A figure. Tall. Male. Dragging something—someone—into the van.
And then—
A flash of hair.
Blonde.
Ariana.
My knees almost buckled.
My girl. My Ariana.
I could barely breathe.
“It’s him,” I whispered.
Dimitri didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
It was Garry.
His grainy face turned toward the camera for just a second—just long enough for the light to catch his features.
And I knew.
My vision went white-hot.
My blood screamed.
“Where was this footage taken?” I asked, my voice low, deadly.
Dimitri pulled up a map overlay, clicking through coordinates. “Here. Outskirts of town. Old industrial zone. Used to be a lumber yard, now it’s mostly abandoned.”
My hands were already on the comm radio.
“Ronny,” I barked. “Get the van ready. We’ve got a location.”
“Copy,” came the immediate reply.
I turned back to Dimitri. “Send the coordinates to Ronny and me.”
“They’re already on the sat link,” he said.
I was halfway out the door.
My legs were moving before my brain could catch up.
I didn’t care if this was a trap.
I didn’t care if it was stupid.
I just needed her back.
The rain had started again, a slow mist that clung to my clothes and hair as I jogged toward the van. Ronny was already behind the wheel, engine running, headlights cutting through the fog like blades.
Two other SUVs were pulling up behind us—his men, armed and ready.
“Let’s go,” I said, yanking open the door and climbing in.
Ronny hit the gas, gravel spitting from the tires as we tore out of the parking lot.
I gripped the handle above the door, every muscle in my body locked, my brain spinning like a turbine I couldn’t shut down.
What was she feeling?
What had he done to her?
Was she hurt? Cold? Alone?
Did she think I gave up on her?
My throat burned.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forced myself to breathe through my nose.
Don’t break down now.
Not when we were finally moving.
Not when she needed me to be strong.
I could fall apart later.
Right now, I had one job.
Get her back.
We flew down the empty road, sirens off, lights dimmed. No need to announce ourselves.
We didn’t want him to run.
We wanted him cornered.
Trapped.
A dead man walking.
Ronny spoke, but I barely heard him. Something about formation. About covering the back. About entry strategy.
I just nodded.
Let them handle tactics.
I’d handle him.
The rain picked up, pattering harder against the windshield, slicking the pavement until it shimmered like oil.
I gripped the seat tighter.
My heart was a war drum in my chest.
Each beat a plea.
Please don’t let me be too late.
Please.
Please.
Don’t let her be gone.
Don’t let this be the last memory I have of her—her face flickering on a corrupted screen, disappearing into the dark.
Don’t let that be the end.
I pressed my forehead to the window, the cold glass grounding me for a split second.
She was out there.
Somewhere.
Waiting.
Fighting.
And I was coming.
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