Chapter 166 Rescue Mission

Chapter 166 Rescue Mission
Sarah’s POV

I shouldn’t have called her.

The thought looped through my mind for the last thirty minutes, relentless as a dripping faucet.

I stared out the passenger window, watching the blur of skeletal trees and crumbling buildings streak past. My fingers twisted together in my lap, knuckles aching from the pressure.

I shouldn’t have called her.

But how could I sit there doing nothing while my baby was gone?

While Kendrick was gone.

My throat closed. Months of midnight feedings. Months of gummy smiles that lit up his whole face. Months of watching him grow stronger after clawing his way through those terrifying early weeks. And now he was gone—snatched away by my own sister.

A shaky breath rattled out of me.

Aaron gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked under his palms, his knuckles bone-white. We hadn’t spoken in miles. The silence pressed down like a physical weight.

Finally, I broke it.

“I shouldn’t have called her.”

Aaron kept his eyes fixed on the road. “No,” he said, voice flat.

I swallowed hard. “I just needed to hear his voice.”

“But you that was a reckless move…there is no possible way Zara would have let  hear his voice.”

His tone wasn’t cruel. He was just  exhausted and frustrated.

“I know.”

“You should have waited…we fucking hard a plan Sarah, and now you are about to ruin it.” He ran a hand over his hair clearly tired, angry and confused.

“I know.”

“You should have trusted the plan.”

Each admission came out smaller, weaker. I hated how pathetic I sounded.

Aaron finally glanced over. His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. “You let panic take over.”

The truth of it landed like a slap. When Michelle had slipped us the address, all rational thought had evaporated. There was only Kendrick—my tiny, vulnerable son.

I hugged my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together.

“When she answered…” My voice cracked. “I thought maybe some part of her still had a shred of humanity left.”

Aaron let out a bitter laugh that twisted in my gut like broken glass.

“Zara?” he said.

I looked away, out the window again. “She’s still your wife.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Aaron’s grip tightened on the wheel until I thought it might snap.

“Not anymore.”

Silence swallowed us once more.

I closed my eyes, and the memory of the call crashed over me again.

The second Zara picked up, I knew something was wrong. Her voice felt too composed—it look like someone holding my child hostage.

Immediately she ended the call she sent me the address, where  we were to meet up—and it was the same address Mitchelle had given us. I relief washed over me. That means we are on tack I said to myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the memory still very clear in my head.

“You heard her,” I whispered.

Aaron scoffed. “I heard a woman who’s losing control.”

I turned to him. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” His voice was low, certain. “Because this isn’t about Kendrick.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He met my gaze for a moment, eyes dark with something heavy. “This is about us.”

A chill slithered down my spine. He was right. Every twisted thing Zara had done since this nightmare began circled back to the two of us—the affair, the lies, the overdose, the scandal, the tape. All of it.

Aaron exhaled slowly. “She’s obsessed with making us pay.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. Obsessed people were unpredictable.

Dangerous.

My hands started trembling again. I pressed them between my knees.

“What if she’s hurt him?”

Aaron reached over without warning and covered my hand with his. The warmth of his palm startled us both. We froze, suspended in the unexpected touch. His grip was steady, grounding. Everything I wasn’t.

“She hasn’t,” he said firmly.

“How do you know?”

“Because Kendrick is her leverage.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

“No.” Aaron’s expression hardened, shadows deepening under his eyes. “He doesn’t.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward anymore. It was heavy and charged waiting for what’s next to come.

Then my phone buzzed.

We both jolted.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I snatched it up. Unknown Number.

I answered with shaking fingers. “Hello?”

Silence.

Then—a baby’s cry.

Everything inside me shattered and reformed in the same instant.

“Kendrick!”

Tears flooded my eyes instantly. “Kendrick!”

The cry came again—weak, confused, but unmistakably his. Alive.

“Oh God…” I choked out, voice breaking. “Baby, Mommy’s here.”

The crying continued for a few agonizing seconds before the line clicked.

Zara’s voice returned, silky and calm in a way that turned my stomach.

“Miss him?”

My fingers crushed the phone. “You promised he was safe.”

“He is.”

Aaron hit the speaker button. I didn’t stop him.

“Where are you?” I demanded.

A light laugh. “Almost there.”

My heart stuttered.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, scanning the empty road. “What does that mean?”

Zara’s tone dropped, cold as winter steel. “It means you’re closer than you think.”

Every hair on my arms stood on end. Aaron’s gaze darted across the abandoned highway, the dense trees, the derelict buildings. The whole world suddenly felt like a trap closing in.

Then Zara spoke one last time, her voice laced with something darker than hatred.

“I know I told you not to tag Aaron along…”

I interrupted quickly. “I’m so sorry Zara, please don’t hurt my baby…please…”

“Relax sis, I just need you to pass a message to my dear husband for me.”

We waited, breath held.

“This ends today.”

The line went dead.

Aaron slowly lowered the phone. My pulse roared in my ears.

Beyond the next bend, a rusted gate appeared, half-hidden behind overgrown trees. It matched the address Michelle had given us.

Aaron’s jaw locked. “We’re here.”

My stomach plummeted.

The further we drove, the more the world seemed to empty out.

No houses. No streetlights. No signs of life. Just endless darkness pressing against the windows and the steady hiss of rain on the windshield.

Then Aaron straightened in his seat.

“There.”

Laid an abandoned property swallowed by dense forest. It’s once white paint had peeled away in long, ragged strips. Somewhere inside those decaying walls, Zara waited.

With my son.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Kendrick is in there.”

Aaron didn’t answer. He eased the car to a stop several yards away, killing the engine. The sudden silence wrapped around us, thick and suffocating, broken only by the rain drumming on the roof.

For a few heartbeats, neither of us moved.

Then—a sound.

Faint at first. Tiny. But unmistakable.

A baby’s cry.

My baby.

“Kendrick!”

I lunged for the door handle. Aaron’s hand shot out, fingers locking around my wrist so tight.

“No.”

I whipped my head toward him. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my son!”

“I know.”

“I’m going inside.”

“No.” His grip tightened, voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Look at the house.”

I froze, forcing myself to really see it this time. My stomach plummeted.

Security cameras.

One perched above the front door. Another angled from the garage corner. A third mounted high near an upstairs window, its lens glinting faintly in the rain.

Aaron’s jaw clenched. “Zara prepared for this.”

The truth crashed over me. This wasn’t some desperate, half-formed scheme. This was calculated. Every step—the overdose, the disappearance, the kidnapping—had been part of a larger plan.

My hands started trembling uncontrollably. I pressed them against my thighs to steady them.

Another cry pierced the night, louder this time, raw and distressed. It cut straight through me.

“Kendrick…” Tears blurred my vision. I took an instinctive step forward, mud sucking at my shoes.

Aaron blocked my path, his body solid and unyielding. “Let me do this carefully.”

“He’s crying,” I choked out.

“I know Sarah.”

“He needs me.”

“And if you rush in there, Zara wins.”

I hated him for being right. I hated the helplessness clawing at my chest. I hated standing here in the pouring rain while my baby’s wails echoed from inside those rotting walls.

Aaron scanned the property with sharp, calculating eyes—the same focused look he wore before every difficult decision. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, but he didn’t seem to notice.

We stood in tense silence. The house loomed ahead, watching. Waiting.

Then Aaron went unnaturally still.

“What?” I whispered.

He lifted his chin toward one of the upstairs windows. I followed his gaze.

A curtain twitched.

Just a fraction. Barely noticeable through the rain and shadows.

But enough.

Someone was there. Watching us.

Ice slid down my spine.

Aaron’s expression turned to granite. “She’s here.”

And somewhere inside that decaying house, I knew Zara was smiling as she watched us through her cameras—calm, composed, and ready for whatever came next.