18. Will

18

WILL

E very siren, every red light feels like an eternity. The thought of a child snatched from a safe space fuels a desperate determination. We weave through the morning traffic, the urgency in our every move palpable. Theo's driving like a man possessed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I sit shotgun, my eyes scanning the streets for any sign of the van.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, the tension making my voice rough. "We can't be too late."

Marcus, in the back with Ethan, leans forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay sharp, Sparks. We've got to get there fast, but we need to get there in one piece."

We blast through an intersection, narrowly missing a collision. The address we're heading to flashes in my mind. 45th and Elm, right by the park. It's a popular spot for families, usually a place for picnics and street performances. The thought of it being tainted by fear and danger twists my gut.

"We're almost there," Theo says, his voice tight. "Just a few more blocks."

I nod, every muscle in my body coiled with anticipation. "Everyone be ready. We don't know what we're walking into."

The truck barrels down the street, sirens blaring a relentless warning. As we turn onto Elm, I see the park up ahead, a splash of green in the urban landscape. And there, near the playground, I spot Ella holding Lily tightly against her chest, her eyes scanning the crowd with calm determination.

"There she is." I point, relief washing over me. "Pull up over there, Theo."

Theo swings the truck to a stop, and we jump out, moving quickly but trying not to draw too much attention. Marcus takes the lead, his voice firm and authoritative. "Ella, what's the situation?"

Ella meets us halfway, her face pale but composed. "He's over there," she whispers, nodding toward a man standing by the swings. "I'm sure it's him."

I follow her gaze, noting the man's nervous glances and the way he keeps shifting from foot to foot. "Good eye, Ella," I say, squeezing her shoulder. "Stay with Lily. We'll handle this."

Marcus leans down and plants a kiss on the top of Lily's head. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"

She looks up at him with her wide eyes and nods with a sweet little smile.

Marcus fixes his stance and gives Ella a brief nod. "Thank you. You're… you're something else."

Ella chuckles low in her throat. "I'll be asking you what you mean by that a little later, once this rescue mission is complete."

I see how Ella looks at Marcus, and how he looks at her. It makes a small smile appear on my lips, even in this situation. The captain doesn't know yet, but he's smitten.

"Come on," Marcus calls out to us, and we begin moving toward the man as stealthily as possible. There's something off about him, that's for sure. Ella has a good eye—odd, considering she's only been around children.

Or maybe she's become so attuned to human emotions that it's made her sharper.

The park is bustling with families enjoying a sunny afternoon. Kids are laughing, parents are chatting, and the air is filled with the sounds of carefree play. Amid this idyllic scene, he is an eyesore.

It's not about what he's wearing, though. The catch is in how he's carrying himself, like he has a bunch of secrets we'd be better off not knowing. The malice in those eyes could double as poison.

The most unsettling thing about him, though, is the way he's watching the children, his gaze lingering just a little too long on each one.

We move closer, keeping our distance but positioning ourselves to intervene quickly if necessary. The man's eyes flicker nervously, darting from side to side as if he's aware of being watched. His movements are jerky, almost twitchy, as he shuffles closer to the playground. He wipes his hands on his jacket repeatedly.

"It looks like a nervous tic," Ethan mutters beside me.

I clench my palms into fists. "Just makes him look like a bigger creep."

Then, he makes a mistake that confirms our suspicions. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, battered notebook, scribbling something furiously while his eyes keep darting back to the children.

"Definitely him," Ethan murmurs, his voice taut with controlled anger. "What's he writing?"

"Probably nothing good," I reply, my jaw clenching. "We need to move in, now."

We close the distance, taking utmost care to be cautious, light on our feet. The man notices us too late. Panic flashes across his face, and he shoves the notebook back into his pocket, turning to flee.

"He's making a run for it!" I shout, adrenaline surging as the man bolts toward the park's exit.

Theo is off like a shot, his athletic build moving with lightning speed. Marcus and I follow right behind, our boots pounding against the pavement, hearts racing with the thrill of the chase. The park falls away as we sprint after the suspect, weaving through the crowd.

Theo's agility is incredible. He hurdles a bench without breaking stride, his eyes locked on the fleeing man. "He's heading toward the alley!" Theo shouts over his shoulder, not missing a beat.

"Stay on him!" Marcus barks, his voice a mix of command and adrenaline.

We charge down the alley, the narrow passage echoing with the sound of our pursuit. The suspect glances back, panic etched across his face as he realizes we're gaining on him. He veers sharply into a back yard, crashing through a flimsy wooden gate.

"Cut him off on the right!" I yell, anticipating his next move.

Marcus nods and splits off, aiming to flank the man and drive him toward me and Theo. I follow Theo through the broken gate, my eyes scanning for any potential obstacles. The back yard is cluttered with toys, a rusted swing set, and a dog that barks furiously as we pass.

"He's heading for the fence!" Theo warns, and I see the man scrambling up a six-foot wooden barrier.

I surge forward, reaching the fence just as the man drops to the other side. Theo is already over, his movements fluid and precise. I haul myself up and over, landing in a crouch and taking off again. We're in another alley now, the smell of garbage and the echo of distant traffic surrounding us.

"Damn, he's fast," I mutter, pushing harder. My legs burn, but I won't let up.

Theo and I burst out of the alley into an abandoned lot, a wasteland of broken concrete and overgrown weeds. The man stumbles, looking around wildly for an escape route. Marcus is closing in from the right, corralling him toward us. I can taste the tang of the suspect's desperation, heavy in his frantic and uncoordinated movements.

"This ends now," I growl, my focus narrowing to a single point—taking this guy down.

The suspect sees us converging and makes a last-ditch effort to flee, but he's out of options. With a roar, I launch myself forward, tackling him to the ground. We hit the dirt hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body.

"Stay down!" I command, but the man thrashes wildly, fighting with the strength of desperation.

Theo is there in an instant, trying to pin the man's arms. The suspect's elbow catches him in the jaw, sending Theo sprawling. I tighten my grip, determined not to let him get away.

"You're not going anywhere," I hiss, struggling to keep hold.

The man twists, his hand reaching for something in his pocket. Instinct kicks in, and I slam his arm down, pinning it under my knee. "What's he got?" Marcus demands, arriving at my side and grabbing the man's other arm.

"He's got something!" I reply, my voice strained with effort.

Theo shakes off the hit and dives back in, helping to immobilize the suspect. The man howls, thrashing beneath our combined weight. "Hold still!" Marcus barks, his voice brooking no argument.

I feel a sharp pain in my side as the man kicks out, but I grit my teeth and hold on. "Get his other arm!" I shout, and Theo grabs it, wrenching it behind the suspect's back.

With a final, ferocious effort, we manage to subdue him, his struggles gradually weakening. "Got him!" I pant, my heart pounding.

The man writhes like a fish out of water until the captain takes control.

"Stop right there!" Marcus commands, his tone brooking no argument.

"You're done," I growl, my body coiled like a spring. "There's nowhere left to run."

He struggles, thrashing and kicking, but we pin him down. "Stay still!" Marcus growls, securing the man's wrists with cuffs.

The man's twisted smile fades, replaced by a snarl of rage. "You don't know what you're doing!" he spits, his voice trembling with anger.

"We know exactly what we're doing," I reply coldly, "and you're not getting away."

As we pull him to his feet, I notice the notebook peeking out of his jacket pocket. I grab it, flipping it open to see pages filled with disturbing drawings and notes, all focused on the park and the children.

"Jesus," I mutter, showing it to Marcus. "This guy is sick."

He looms over the creep, anger evident in his eyes. But one thing about Marcus—he knows when to step back and let the law do its thing.

If only it could work faster than it usually does. I'm sure the police will get here in time and arrest the guy, but from there to however long it takes to find Sarah, we're doing nothing but wasting time. Time that is incredibly precious.

Just then, I hear sounds coming from the shed nearby, sounds that are a lot like a child weeping. "Theo," Marcus calls out urgently. "Check the shed while I deal with this asshole."