The Broken Map
There were papers.
Notes. Small files bound in rubber bands. A jewelry box I hadn’t seen in years—one my aunt gave me when I turned sixteen.
It was the only gift that she gave me for my birthday and that was to please Jules and her wicked soul for treating me like dirt. I used to be so attached until I lost it during third year.
How…how did he get it?
I frowbed lifting it up
And beneath all of that—
A photo.
I pulled it out slowly.
My breath caught.
It was the photo.
The one that had been slipped under the twins’ bedroom door.
Me—eight or nine years old. Crooked braids. Bandage on my knee. That same distant swing set behind me.
I’d never seen this photo before two days or a day ago. Never knew it existed.
And now it was here.
In his drawer.
My stomach twisted.
How long had he been watching me?
How far back did this go?
I turned the photo over. Nothing written. No date. Just that familiar wear on the edges, as if it had been touched too many times by the same fingers.
I sat back on my heels, the room spinning slightly.
Had he kept this? Had he taken it?
Or had someone else given it to him?
And if so… why?
None of this made sense.
None of this felt like Asher—my Asher.
But the man outside this room wasn’t mine anymore.
He hadn’t been for a long time.
I slid the photo under my shirt, tucking it into the band of my trousers near the hidden tracker. Then I carefully closed the drawer, locked it, and returned the key to the wardrobe.
I didn’t know what he was planning next.
But I knew now—this wasn’t love.
It was something else.
Something much darker.
And I wasn’t waiting around to see how deep it went.
****
The clock on the wall hit 3:07 a.m.
The estate was still and silent, save for the low hum of power flowing through the generator. Somewhere on the far end of the west wing, a floorboard creaked—but Jo knew it wasn’t danger. She was used to the late-night pacing by now.
Rowan hadn't sat down in over an hour.
He stood in front of the fireplace, sleeves rolled up, his phone in one hand, a printed folder in the other. He hadn't changed out of his black dress shirt. His expression was the same as it had been since they realized Remi was missing—tight, cold, focused.
“I found it,” Jo said, sliding the laptop around so he could see.
He was beside her in two steps.
The satellite map lit up the screen, showing a large plot of land somewhere deep in the outskirts—miles of dense forest wrapping around a forgotten estate. No neighbors. No cameras. No listed name. But the records, when you knew where to dig, told a different story.
Asher’s mother’s name sat right there in the deed archives.
“Son of a bitch,” Rowan muttered, leaning closer. “He took her there.”
Jo zoomed in. “He hasn’t touched the property in a year. It’s off-grid. No power, no water. All self-contained. You can’t get in without climbing through trees or knowing the private back road. This is where he’s keeping her.”
Rowan nodded slowly. “Then we go in quiet.”
“Callum already dispatched the fixer team. They’ll meet us at the entrance of the woods. But, Rowan—” Jo looked up at him. “If Asher's really… this far gone—what are we walking into?”
Rowan’s eyes darkened. “I’m walking into my worst mistake.”
Jo didn’t press further.
Instead, she pulled out the burner Remi had used to send the message. Still no new texts.
But the message had come through. That meant one thing:
Remi was still alive.
\---
Upstairs, in the guest room tucked beside the nursery, soft whimpering stirred the silence.
Larry sat up in bed, groggy. “Laura?”
She was curled in her blanket, her face tight with fear. “I had a bad dream.”
Larry blinked fast, wiped his eyes, and reached for her hand. “About what?”
“Mommy…” Her voice trembled. “She was stuck somewhere. She kept calling us, but nobody could find her.”
Larry looked toward the door. The light from the hallway poured in under the crack, casting shadows across the floor.
“She’s okay,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure.
“Is she coming back tomorrow?”
He hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. She promised.”
Laura turned toward him and whispered, “What if she gets lost?”
Larry squeezed her hand. “She won’t. Mommy always finds her way back.”
\---
Remi’s POV
I didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t.
Even with the fake softness of the bed, the warm clothes, the carefully adjusted lights—none of it could trick me into feeling safe. Not anymore.
After I found the photo and tucked it away, I kept my back to the door, watching shadows shift on the walls, counting the seconds between footsteps in the hallway.
Asher didn’t come back after I left the bathroom. For hours, it was silence.
Too much silence.
Which meant one thing: he thought I was comfortable now. That I’d settled.
And that worked in my favor.
I needed him to think I was giving in. That I was letting the past settle between us like dust on forgotten love letters.
But I wasn’t.
I was watching. I was waiting.
And now, as the darkness deepened and the cold edge of dawn crawled over the trees outside, I made my move.
I slipped off the bed quietly, pulling on socks to muffle my steps. I went to the desk and opened the middle drawer where I’d noticed the spare pens and matchsticks earlier. Nothing useful—until I spotted the long, thin bobby pin shoved behind a notebook.
I held it up, heart thudding.
Good enough.
I padded to the door. Knelt.
The lock was old. I could tell from the keyhole size, the design. I’d watched Jo unlock handcuffs once during an emergency clinic protest. Watched her use a bobby pin and a paperclip like magic wands.
I wasn’t Jo, but desperation taught you fast.
I bent the bobby pin into shape and slid it into the lock.
Tick.
Turn.
Pause.
Turn again.
It started to catch.
My pulse quickened.
Another click. Just a little more—
“Still trying to leave me?”
I froze.
The voice came from behind me. Soft. Steady. Close.
Too close.
I turned around slowly, bobby pin still in hand.
Asher stood in the hallway, the light casting his shadow long across the floor, one hand on the doorframe.
His eyes weren’t wild. They weren’t angry. That was what made it worse.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
