It Ends Here
HARDIN’S POV
I had never hated time more in my life.
Each second that passed felt like it was dragging itself through molasses, slow and mocking and cruel. The tires roared against the wet road, the engine growling as Ronny pushed the van as fast as he dared. But it still wasn’t fast enough. We could’ve been flying, and I still would’ve felt like we were crawling.
Ten minutes.
That’s what Ronny had said.
Ten goddamn minutes.
It might as well have been ten years.
I sat there, vibrating in my seat, hand twitching on my thigh, knuckles going white. My mind was a carousel of panic, fury, and guilt that looped endlessly without mercy. What if we were too late? What if that bastard had already—
I squeezed my eyes shut.
No.
I wouldn’t let my brain go there.
I couldn’t.
Ariana was alive.
She had to be.
I’d seen her. In that grainy footage. Dragged into a van like cargo, like she was nothing.
But she wasn’t nothing.
She was everything.
And I was going to kill the son of a bitch who laid a hand on her.
“You good?” Ronny asked quietly, barely glancing at me as he turned the wheel, eyes locked on the road ahead.
I didn’t answer right away. What the hell was I supposed to say? That I felt like my skin was two seconds from peeling off from the inside out? That I hadn’t taken a full breath since she disappeared?
“I just want her back,” I said finally, my voice low, raw. “That’s all I want.”
Ronny nodded. “We’re close. Almost there.”
Almost.
That word again.
I looked out the window, but the darkness made it hard to see anything beyond the wash of the headlights. The trees blurred past, tall and endless, like they were closing in. We passed broken signs, rusted fences, cracked pavement. It felt like the edge of the world.
Where the monsters lived.
We made a sharp turn and the van fishtailed slightly. Ronny corrected fast, eyes narrowing. “Another three minutes. Get ready.”
In the back, two of his guys—Choi and Marcus—checked their weapons again, their movements quiet, precise. No one spoke. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
I tapped my earpiece. “Everyone ready?”
“Copy,” came the murmur from the SUV behind us. “We’re with you.”
I leaned forward, eyes scanning the road, chest tight.
Just hold on, Ariana.
Just hold on for me.
Please.
We crested a small hill, and suddenly the trees broke open into a clearing. To the right, the remains of the old lumber yard came into view—an open space with skeletal buildings, metal containers stacked like forgotten coffins, and a concrete office structure near the back, its windows long since shattered.
That had to be it.
That had to be where he took her.
Ronny slowed the van just enough for the tires to grip as we turned off the road and bounced over gravel. The SUV behind us followed, headlights doused, engines a low growl.
We were almost at the edge of the clearing when something moved.
I blinked, leaned forward.
A figure.
Running.
No—staggering.
At first, I thought it was a trick of the rain or my sleep-deprived brain playing games with me.
But then the figure stumbled into the headlights, and my heart stopped.
Ariana.
Hair plastered to her face. Clothes soaked. Legs barely holding her up as she stumbled forward like a ghost, like her body was moving purely on instinct.
“Ariana!” I choked out, my hand slamming into the door handle.
Ronny barely had time to react.
“Hardin—wait—”
But I wasn’t waiting.
The second the door cracked open, I leapt out into the rain, my boots hitting the gravel with a splash. Cold water soaked me instantly, but I didn’t feel it.
All I saw was her.
My girl.
My everything.
“Ariana!” I shouted again, sprinting toward her.
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. She opened her mouth, maybe to call my name—but before a sound could escape, a blur lunged out from the side.
“NO!”
A man tackled her from behind, dragging her down hard into the mud.
My feet skidded, lungs on fire.
He yanked her upright, one arm wrapped around her throat, the other holding a gun to her temple.
I froze.
So did everyone else.
The world stopped.
Ariana gasped, chest heaving, eyes wild with panic as she struggled in his grip. Mud streaked down her legs. Her lip was split. Her arms were trembling.
Garry.
The bastard.
He was thinner than I remembered, paler, soaked and snarling, but that face—that face fucking face was burned into my soul.
And it was him.
He held her like a shield, like a lifeline, like he knew she was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Don’t move!” he shouted, the gun pressing harder against her head.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to keep going, to tackle him, to kill him with my bare hands.
But Ariana’s eyes locked on mine.
Terrified.
“Stop!” Garry barked, dragging her back a few steps. “One more step and I swear to God—”
I stopped cold.
The team behind me fanned out slowly, weapons raised but not aimed.
Ronny came up beside me, voice calm. “You don’t want to do this, Garry.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Garry spat, eyes twitching, finger twitching dangerously close to the trigger. “You think I don’t know how this ends?! Huh?! You think I don’t know you’re gonna shoot me either way?!”
“No one’s shooting anyone,” I said, voice steady, even though my insides were shaking like glass about to shatter. “You’ve got her. You win, okay? Just—let her go.”
He laughed.
A hollow, broken sound.
“I win? Is that what you think this is? A fucking game?”
“She’s not part of this,” I said.
He bared his teeth. “She’s all of this.”
Ariana whimpered, her hands scrabbling weakly at his arm. Her legs gave out and he jerked her back upright.
I saw red.
“Let her go,” I said again. “You want me? Take me instead. I don’t care. Just let her go.”
“I am going to take you,” Garry growled. “I’m going to make you watch. I’m going to make you beg.”
I took a step forward.
The gun cocked.
He pressed it harder into Ariana’s temple.
She cried out, her entire body tensing.
I stopped.
My hands lifted slowly.
I couldn’t breathe.
My heart pounded like a war drum in my ears.
Every muscle in my body was screaming to act—to do something.
But one wrong move, and she was dead.
One wrong word, and I’d lose her forever.
“Don’t do this,” I said, and this time my voice cracked. “You don’t have to do this. You can still walk away.”
“No,” he hissed. “I don’t walk away. I burn it all down.”
Rain pelted us, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance.
Ronny’s men were frozen, weapons at their sides, waiting for a shot that wouldn’t come.
“You still have the chance to make it right, let the girl go!" One of the officers said.
I could see it in Garry’s eyes.
He had nothing left.
He wasn’t bluffing.
If something didn’t change—and fast—this was going to end in blood.
I took one slow step forward.
Just one.
He noticed.
“Don’t test me, Hardin!”
“I’m not.” My voice was soft now. Barely audible over the rain. “I’m not testing you, Garry. I’m begging you.”
His eyes flicked to mine, and for a heartbeat, I thought maybe… just maybe…
But then Garry snapped.
“NO!”
He started dragging her backward toward the tree line, gun still pressed to her head.
“Garry!” I shouted, my voice rising. “You do this, you’re dead. You know you’re dead!”
He didn’t answer.
Just moved faster.
Ronny raised a hand, a silent signal to flank.
The team responded.
A slow creep.
A careful step.
Ariana stumbled again, and Garry cursed, dragging her roughly. She cried out in pain.
“Stop!” I yelled.
But he didn’t.
He just kept moving.
And then—
He paused.
Turned.
And his eyes met mine one last time.
And that’s when I knew—
He wasn’t going to run.
He was going to end it.
Right there.
Right then.
The barrel of the gun shifted.
Pressed harder.
And Ariana gasped.
I moved—
And everything went still.
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