Chapter 76 The Key
Kier's POV
Sam was still sitting where I left him, bruised and bloodied. His breath came slow and steady.
“You don’t break easy,” I said, leaning against the table.
He raised his head, one eye already swelling shut. “Wouldn't want to deprive you of the challenge.”
I dragged a chair across the floor and sat down across from him again. “You’ve been at this for hours,” I said. “You’re bleeding, half-conscious, and probably have two broken ribs. You want to tell me where she is now or after you lose the ability to breathe through your nose?”
He laughed—hoarse, low, painful. “You think I’m scared of the pain?”
“I don’t care what you’re scared of,” I said. “I only care where Sable is.”
He smiled, a red smear across his teeth. “If I tell you, you’ll kill me. Besides who says she wants to be found?"
That smirk. That damned smirk.
I stood and crossed to the far corner, dragging my hand through my hair. The room smelled like blood, the scent mixing into something that would cling to me long after I left.
He wasn’t going to talk.
I turned toward the door. “I'm going to give you a minute to think about how I'm going to drag this information out of you. When I return you'll wish you were dead."
He spat blood onto the floor. “You'll never have her.”
I walked out before I did something I couldn’t take back.
The hallway outside felt colder than the interrogation room. I leaned against the wall, forcing air into my lungs. Every breath hurt—not physically, but in that deep, gnawing way that came from knowing I was running out of time.
Jaxon was waiting outside, pacing. His hair was damp with sweat, the mark of a man who’d just spent too long trying to leash his temper.
When he saw me, he straightened. “Any luck?”
I shook my head. “He’s tougher than he looks. Or dumber.”
Jaxon sighed, running a hand down his face. “Both, probably.” He hesitated. “About earlier…”
I glanced at him. “You lost control.”
“Yeah,” he said, guilt lacing his tone. “And I shouldn’t have. That was on me. I went in there thinking it would be you to lose control and it was me.”
“Don't worry I understand how you felt,” I said. “You were able to walk out. That’s something.”
He managed a small, humorless smile. “Doesn’t feel like much of a win.”
“It’s more than he deserves,” I muttered.
We both fell quiet for a while. The only sound was the low hum of the lights and the muffled footsteps of my security detail moving through the hall.
Then Jenna’s voice broke through the silence from the far end of the corridor. “Hey—uh, you guys might want to see this.”
Jaxon and I turned. She was walking toward us, her hair tied up, sleeves rolled, a small ring of keys dangling from her fingers.
“Where’d you get those?” I asked.
“I got these from Sam's bag,” she said. “Your guy dropped it off when they brought him in. I went through it while you were playing bad cop.”
“Without permission,” I said flatly.
“Technically, yeah,” she said, not the least bit sorry. “But you’ll forgive me when you see this.”
She held out the key ring. It wasn’t much—just a set of old car keys, a broken USB, and one of those digital keycards with a black stripe across the back.
“What is it?” Jaxon asked.
Jenna turned it over in her hand. “That’s the thing. I’ve seen this before.”
“Where?” I asked.
She hesitated, then looked up. “We used to lease warehouse spaces for commercial shoots—photo campaigns, ad testing, storage, that kind of thing. This”—she tapped the card—“belongs to one of those old sites. I’m sure of it.”
Jaxon frowned. “You’re saying Sam has access to one of your old marketing warehouses?”
“Not technically ours,” Jenna corrected, “but yeah. It was one of the places we used years ago, near the south side industrial loop. You’d never think to look there—it’s technically condemned, but the access card still works if you’ve got the right code.”
I took the keycard from her, turning it in my hand. The logo was almost worn off, but I could still make out the faint initials printed on the back—CW Holdings.
A cold weight dropped in my stomach.
“This building,” I said slowly, “is close to the river?”
Jenna nodded. "Yes, we would lunch on the river bank almost daily."
Jaxon’s expression shifted. “You think he’s keeping her there?”
“It fits,” I said. “He’d need somewhere quiet. Out of sight. Somewhere he could move in and out without anyone noticing.”
Jenna looked uneasy. “If it’s been condemned, the place might be unstable. You can’t just storm in there.”
I met her eyes. “If she’s there, I’m not waiting for a structural report.”
She didn’t argue.
Jaxon pocketed the keycard. “I’ll get a team ready. We’ll go in quiet.”
I nodded. “Good. We go tonight.”
Jenna crossed her arms. “Then I’m going too.”
Jaxon and I spoke at the same time. “No.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding, right? I found the damn key.”
“And we’re grateful,” I said. “But we don't know what we will find there. And you don’t belong in that crossfire.”
She glared at me, but Jaxon stepped between us. “He’s right, Jenna. Stay here. Sable will kill us if we let something happen to you.”
Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t argue further. “Fine. But if you find her…”
“We’ll bring her home,” I said.
Her eyes flicked toward the interrogation room, where Sam sat behind reinforced glass, still smirking like he held the world’s best-kept secret.
“What about him?” she asked.
“Let him sit,” I said. “He’s done talking. He’ll be dealt with when she’s safe.”
Jaxon gave me a look—half warning, half understanding. “You sure you’re not going to—”
“I’ll handle it,” I said.
I turned away before the conversation could stretch further, the weight of the keycard digging into my palm.
Something about it felt right. Too right.
Jenna’s voice echoed down the hall as we prepared to move. “Be careful.”
I didn’t answer.
Jaxon met my gaze as we headed for the garage. “You think this is it?”
“I think,” I said, pocketing the card, “I don't know what to think anymore.”