Chapter 163: I know where Mitchell is…

Sarah’s POV

“That was Zara.”

The words hit like a blade twisting straight into my chest.

“No.” I shook my head violently. “No… there’s no way.”

But even as the denial left my lips, my voice sounded hollow. Weak. Because deep down, in my heart, I knew.

I knew that bracelet. Silver chain with a tiny diamond charm that caught the light just so. I had bought it for Zara two years ago on her birthday, after she broke down crying because Dad had missed her birthday for work.

She wore it every day after that, twisting it around her wrist like a lifeline. “It reminds me that I’m special” she’d whispered once.

My stomach twisted violently. “Oh my God…”

The security room suddenly felt suffocating—too small, too hot, the air thick with fear. Aaron’s jaw tightened beside me, his entire body radiating a dangerous calm that chilled me more than any shout ever could.

“She planned this,” he said, voice low and ice-cold. Controlled. Terrifying.

Edward turned to us, eyes wide. “We need to call the police. Now.”

“No.” The word flew out of me, sharp and final.

Everyone stared. Mom gripped the doorframe, her face paler than I’d seen it in weeks—more sober than I’d seen her in months.

“Sarah—” Edward began.

“No.” My voice cracked. “You don’t understand. You don’t know her like I do.”

I looked at Aaron, pleading. “You know Zara. If she even thinks the police are coming… she’ll run.” My breathing turned ragged. “Or worse.”

Kendrick was still a baby. So tiny. So fragile. He still woke every few hours, crying for milk and warmth. What if she forgot to feed him? What if he got scared in the dark? What if her anger—her broken, jagged rage—turned toward him?

I couldn’t finish the thought. It clawed too deep.

Aaron scrubbed a hand over his face, then jerked his chin toward the security feed. “Replay it.”

The footage rolled again: Michelle hurrying down the hall with Kendrick bundled carefully against her, the black SUV idling just beyond the gate, the hooded figure stepping out. Zara.

Aaron leaned in closer. “Pause.”

The image froze. He narrowed his eyes at the license plate—blurry, but not useless. Half the digits were visible and more than enough.

Hope sparked, fragile and painful, in my chest.

Aaron already had his phone out. “Derek,” he said the moment the line connected, voice clipped. “I need a vehicle traced. No questions. Tonight.”

He hung up.

I stared at him. “You still know people?”

He met my gaze briefly, something unreadable flickering there. “I know enough.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Then my phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times.

Unknown number.

A cold dread settled deep in my bones. Aaron noticed instantly. “What is it?”

My fingers shook as I opened the message. The world stopped at once.

There, on my screen, was Kendrick.

Alive.

Still wrapped in his blue blanket, little face scrunched up mid-cry.

My baby. My son.

Fresh tears burned my eyes. “Oh my God… Kendrick…”

Aaron snatched the phone, his expression hardening into stone. “What the hell…”

The text loaded beneath the photo.

If you ever want your son back…

My breath hitched.

Leave Aaron. Leave his life forever. Disappear.

Tears slid down my cheeks.

You stole enough from me.

Choose.

Aaron… or your son.

A strangled sound tore from my throat. Mom gasped. Edward cursed under his breath.

“No,” I whispered, the word fracturing. “No, no, no.”

Another message arrived. A new photo—Kendrick sleeping now, peaceful for the moment. And beneath it:

Don’t even dare getting the police involved. Or you lose him forever.

My legs gave out. Aaron caught me before I crumpled, his arms strong around me.

“I can’t do this,” I sobbed, voice breaking completely. “My baby…”

Aaron crouched in front of me, eyes level with mine. “Sarah.”

I shook my head, tears blurring everything. “She’s unstable. She hates me. What if she hurts him?”

“She won’t,” he said firmly.

“How do you know that?!” I cried.

Because I didn’t. None of us did.

Aaron exhaled slowly, thinking. Then he took the phone back and zoomed in on the second photo, studying the background.

“Wait.” His voice sharpened.

Edward frowned. “What?”

Aaron tilted the screen toward us. “There.”

Through my tears, I squinted. A plain chair. A table. And hanging off the edge—a thin gold bracelet with a tiny butterfly charm.

“So?” Edward asked.

Aaron’s jaw flexed. “I’ve seen this before.”

The room stilled.

“When?” I whispered.

He stared at the image a moment longer, recognition hardening his features. “Michelle.”

My chest squeezed. “What?”

“That bracelet is Michelle’s.”

Edward swore. “That snake.”

Aaron was already moving, snatching his keys. “I’m going after her.”

“Where are you going?” I demanded, scrambling to my feet. “You don’t even know where she is!”

“I know enough.” His voice dropped, cold and lethal. “And if Michelle helped Zara take my son… she’s going to tell me exactly where they are.”

Fear, hope, and panic churned inside me. “I’m coming.”

“No!”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“You stay here.”

“Are you serious?” My voice rose, raw with fury and terror. “My son is gone!”

“Our son,” Aaron corrected quietly. The words landed heavier than they should have.

For one brief second, his expression softened. Then the steel returned. He stepped closer, voice low. “Sarah, I need you safe.”

Safe? There was no safe while my baby was missing.

“I’m not staying here while my child is out there crying for me!” Tears spilled harder. “He needs me.”

Aaron looked wrecked—truly wrecked—for the first time all night. Like the weight was cracking him too. But he held it together.

He stepped even closer, lowering his voice. “I’ll bring him back.”

The quiet certainty in his tone made my chest ache. For one dangerous second, I wanted to believe him. Wanted to lean into him and let someone else carry this unbearable fear.

But fear won.

“What if she disappears?” I whispered. “What if this is our only chance?”

Aaron looked away, jaw tight. Then he cursed softly. “Fine.” He grabbed the keys. “But you stay right beside me.”

Edward stepped forward. “I’m coming too.”

“No,” Aaron said. “If Zara sees too many people, she’ll run.”

Mom’s voice trembled from the doorway. “Please… bring my grandson back.”

I couldn’t answer. Terror had swallowed my voice whole.

Twenty minutes later, I sat in the passenger seat of Aaron’s car, hands trembling in my lap, phone clutched in my hands like a lifeline. The engine roared as Aaron drove faster than I’d ever seen him drive—silent, focused, dangerous.

Then his phone rang. Derek.

Aaron answered instantly. “Talk to me.”

A pause. His jaw clenched.

“Are you sure?”

Another pause.

He slowed the car gradually. I turned to him, heart hammering. “What?”

Aaron looked over, his expression dark, cold, and utterly terrifying.

“I know where Michelle is.”