The Moving
Chapter 19
Cole didn’t sleep.
I could hear him pacing long after I’d crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head, my body trembling from exhaustion but my mind refusing to shut down. His footsteps were soft but constant, the low murmur of his phone conversations slicing through the quiet like distant thunder.
I lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as fragments of fear churned in my mind. The frozen accounts. The knocks at the door. The way he’d said they moved Kyle again, like the words tasted like blood.
By the time morning came, my chest felt tight, my limbs heavy, like I’d run a marathon in my sleep.
I shuffled into the living room to find Cole exactly where I’d left him, standing near the window, phone in hand, his jaw set in that sharp, unforgiving line.
“You didn’t sleep,” I said, though it came out more like an accusation than a question.
He didn’t look at me. “Couldn’t.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned against the doorframe. “Did you find anything? About Kyle?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched so long that my stomach twisted into knots. Then, finally, he turned, his eyes meeting mine.
“They’re moving him between safe houses,” he said. “I don’t know why yet. It’s sloppy, though. Sloppier than I expected.”
“Sloppy is good, right? It means you can track them.”
His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through it. “It means they’re nervous. Nervous men make mistakes, Tess. But they also make very dangerous decisions.”
The chill that swept over me was instant. “What kind of decisions?”
He didn’t answer, and that said enough.
I sank into the couch, my hands twisting together in my lap. “What if… what if this is my fault? What if they’re moving him because of me? Because of the video, or because—”
“It’s not because of you,” Cole cut in sharply.
I looked up, startled by the edge in his voice.
“This started long before you,” he said, softer this time. “You were just the first person in a long time who didn’t play by their rules. That makes you dangerous to them, Tess. It always has.”
The weight of his words pressed down on me, but I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something darker, something closer to guilt.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but my phone buzzed on the counter, sharp and jarring in the silence.
Cole’s head snapped toward it.
I crossed the room and grabbed it, my heart hammering. A message. Just one word.
Tick.
I stared at it, my stomach turning to ice.
“They’re watching me,” I whispered.
Cole was at my side in an instant, plucking the phone from my trembling hand. His eyes scanned the screen, his jaw tightening as he read the message again.
“They want you scared,” he said, his voice low and even. “They want you to unravel so you’re easier to control.”
“Well, congratulations to them,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “Because it’s working.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Cole tossed the phone onto the counter and met my gaze, his expression unreadable.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
“What? Where?”
“Somewhere they won’t expect you to be,” he said. “You’ve been sitting in this apartment like a target. That ends now.”
---
The safe house wasn’t what I expected.
It was tucked away on the edge of the city, hidden behind rows of abandoned warehouses and a chain-link fence that sagged in places. Inside, though, it was surprisingly clean, sterile, almost. White walls. Sparse furniture. No windows big enough to see through.
Cole moved through the space like he’d been here a hundred times before, checking locks, testing cameras, flipping switches. I hovered near the doorway, my fingers twisting nervously.
“Is this one of your places?” I asked.
“Something like that,” he said without looking at me.
I wanted to ask what “something like that” meant, but the tightness in his posture warned me off.
Instead, I sank onto the small couch and pulled my knees to my chest. “What now?”
“Now we wait,” Cole said.
I hated that answer. Waiting felt like drowning.
Hours bled together, the silence between us thick and heavy. I scrolled through my phone, though there was nothing to see. Every account locked. Every notification some cruel joke.
By evening, the walls felt like they were closing in. I stood abruptly, pacing the length of the tiny living room until Cole’s voice cut through the quiet.
“Sit down, Tess.”
I stopped, glaring at him. “I can’t just sit here while they have him. He’s out there, Cole. He could be hurt or—”
“He’s alive,” Cole said, his tone sharp enough to make me flinch.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said. “They need him. And until they get what they want, they’ll keep him breathing.”
The certainty in his voice sent a strange, reluctant comfort through me, but it didn’t quiet the gnawing in my chest.
“What if what they want is you?” I asked quietly.
His gaze flicked to mine, sharp and unflinching. “Then they’ll get me,” he said simply.
Something in his calmness terrified me.
---
Night fell fast, swallowing the room in a quiet, suffocating darkness. I curled up on the couch, trying to sleep, but every sound made my eyes snap open. Every creak, every hum of the building settling, felt like a threat.
I didn’t realize I’d drifted off until the sound of a phone ringing jolted me awake.
Cole was already on his feet, his voice low and clipped as he answered.
“What?” A pause. “Where?” Another pause, longer this time. “I’ll handle it.”
He hung up and turned to me, his expression unreadable.
“They’re making a move,” he said.
My heart stuttered. “On Kyle?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s something. And if we’re lucky, it’s a trail we can follow.”
He grabbed his jacket and keys, motioning for me to stay put.
“No,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “I’m coming.”
His jaw tightened. “Tess...”
“I can’t stay here,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ll lose my mind if I do. Please.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he gave a sharp nod.
“Stay close,” he said. “And do exactly what I say.”
---
The night swallowed the car as we drove, the city lights fading into the distance. Cole didn’t speak, his focus razor-sharp, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
I stared out the window, my reflection ghostly in the glass, and tried to steady my breathing.
Somewhere out there, Kyle was alive.