𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

30

"Damien, we need to find that address," I say, my whole body shaking as we speed down the highway. "Lymon's parents' house in Sacramento - that's gotta be where he's hiding out with Penny."

Damien nods, already pulling out his phone. "I'm on it, babe. Let me call up Jon, see if he can track it down."

He punches in the number and puts it on speaker. After a few rings, Mr. Weaver's crisp, professional voice fills the car. "Mr. Caine, how can I assist you?"

"I need you to find an address for me," Damien says, cutting straight to the chase. "Lymon Jessop's parents' place out in Sacramento."

There's a brief pause, then, "Do you happen to have their names? It would greatly expedite the search."

I rack my brain, trying to remember any scrap of information from Lymon's drunken ramblings. Then it hits me. "Dallin!" I blurt out. "His dad's name is Dallin Jessop."

The sound of rapid typing comes through the speaker. "Just a moment... ah, here we are. Dallin and Margaret Jessop, 4782 County Road 12. Sending the coordinates to your GPS now."

Damien's phone pings with the incoming data. He throws Mr. Weaver a quick "thanks."

I groan as the estimated arrival time pops up. "Fuck, an hour and a half? Penny can't wait that long!"

Damien's jaw tightens with determination. "I'll get us there in 55, Cat. Hang tight."

The car lurches forward as Damien hits the gas, the engine roaring. He glances over at me, his expression serious."That house - is it secluded? Isolated enough that Lymon could hide out without drawing attention?"

I relay the question to Mr. Weaver, who's still on the line. "Indeed," he confirms. "The nearest neighbor is a few miles away."

Damien nods, wheels clearly turning in his head. He adds Rome to the call. "Okay, here's the plan. Rome, have the crew set up a perimeter around the place. Far enough away that Lymon won't spot them, but close enough to block any escape routes."

"Make sure everyone's quiet, Rome. We're not trying to spook this fucker into running or hurting the kid before we can grab him."

He hangs up and reaches over to squeeze my hand. "We're gonna get her back, Cat. I promise you."

I nod, too choked up to speak. All I can do is cling to Damien's hand, praying to every god I've ever heard of that we're not too late.

Hang on, Penny. Mommy's almost there. Just hang on a little longer.

Damien weaves through traffic like a goddamn NASCAR driver, pushing the speedometer well past the triple digits. Cars honk and swerve out of our way, but he just grips the wheel tighter, his eyes laser-focused on the road ahead.

We make it back to the outskirts of Sacramento in record time, the GPS guiding us down a series of winding back roads until we finally spot the long, tree-lined driveway leading up to the Jessop property.

Damien coasts to a stop behind a thick copse of trees, just out of sight of the house. I'm already reaching for my weapons before the car even shifts into park - my pistol and the heavy-duty rifle I'd grabbed from Damien's stash.

As we approach the house on foot, I fish the keys out of my pocket, praying to whoever is listening that they'll fit the lock. The place is huge, a sprawling two-story house nestled in the middle of the woods like some kind of horror movie set.

I catch a glimpse of movement in the trees, Damien's crew taking up positions and covering the rear exit.

Damien and I creep up to the front door. I slide the key into the lock, holding my breath until I feel it click into place. Thank God...