Chapter 10
The drive back to Maple Crest Lane felt unusually long, the afternoon sun dipping below the tree line and casting long, bruised shadows across the asphalt. Maya kept her eyes glued to the rearview mirror, watching for the matte-black sedan or any other vehicle trailing her civic sedan. The roads were quiet, almost eerily so, as she turned onto her street and pulled smoothly into her driveway.
She parked the car, grabbed the manila envelope containing the stolen public records, and stepped out onto the gravel driveway. The autumn wind whistled through the oak branches, carrying the crisp scent of burning leaves and approaching rain. As she walked toward her front porch, she noticed something was terribly wrong. The front door was ajar—not wide open, but cracked about two inches, the heavy brass deadbolt punched clean out of the wooden frame with a crowbar.
Panic seized her throat. “Leo!” she screamed, dropping her keys and the manila envelope as she sprinted toward the entrance, bursting through the door with explosive force.
The living room was completely ransacked. Sofa cushions were slashed open, books were thrown haphazardly across the floor, and the kitchen cabinets stood wide open with their contents smashed on the tile. “Leo!” she yelled again, her voice cracking with pure terror as she tore down the hallway, checking every bedroom and closet. The rooms were entirely empty. Leo was gone.
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A sudden sound from the backyard patio door made her spin around. Standing outside the shattered glass door was Jax, his heavy beard framing a cold, triumphant smile. In his massive hand, he casually tossed Leo’s scuffed leather football up and down, catching it effortlessly. Through the glass, Maya could see Leo tied securely to a wooden lawn chair on the back deck, a piece of dark duct tape pressed firmly across his mouth, his eyes wide with helpless terror.
Rage, hotter and more destructive than anything she had ever experienced, erupted in Maya’s chest, completely incinerating any lingering shred of fear. She didn't hesitate. She didn't negotiate. She grabbed a heavy brass lamp off the shattered end table, hurled it directly through the remaining glass pane of the back door with earth-shattering force, and charged out onto the deck to finish what had started on the sidewalk days ago.
