Before Dawn, a Silver Bracelet Forced Sebastian Cross to Choose His Ruin

He could not remember asking whether anyone still lived there.

A burst of static came through Warren’s radio.

“Chief, east team at the wall. We found the gap.”

Warren pressed his earpiece. “Secure it. Two men hold the estate side. Four enter on my coordinates.”

Theo stopped again.

“Don’t bring them this way.”

Warren’s expression hardened. “Why?”

“Because the men listen for radios.”

Warren lowered his hand from his ear.

Theo pointed to a strand of red thread snagged on a thorn. “Micah tied that.”

Sebastian touched the thread. It came loose against his thumb. Cheap cotton, probably torn from a shirt.

“He marks turns,” Theo said. “When Ranger’s tired.”

Ranger looked up at his name, then back toward the trees.

“How far?” Sebastian asked.

“The creek first.”

Warren signaled the guards to spread wider.

They descended into a shallow ravine where runoff had swollen a narrow creek. The bank smelled of wet leaves and iron. Theo crossed on a fallen tree without slowing. Ranger placed one paw on the trunk, slipped, and nearly went into the water.

Theo dropped his bag and reached for him.

Sebastian caught the dog beneath the chest before Theo could lose his balance. Ranger twisted with a warning rumble, teeth flashing near Sebastian’s wrist.

“Easy,” Theo whispered.

The dog went still.

Sebastian felt the heat of the wounded leg through Ranger’s fur. Together, he and Theo lifted the animal across. On the far bank, Ranger shook once, staggered, then pressed his shoulder into Theo.

“Thank you,” Theo said.

The words seemed practiced, something he had been taught to spend carefully.

Sebastian wiped mud from his white cuff. “How did he get hurt?”

“One of the men kicked him down a slope. There was broken metal.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

Theo’s face changed, not much. A slight withdrawal around the mouth.

“Micah said the men had police radios.”

Warren glanced toward Sebastian.

Private security radios used frequencies and language that a frightened child might mistake for police equipment. Sebastian understood that. He also understood what Theo had learned from adults before this morning: uniforms did not always mean safety.

“You came to my gate,” Sebastian said.

“Ruby said her father owned the black house.”

The words caught him with more force than the gunshot.

“You spoke to her?”

“No. Micah did.”

Theo moved again before Sebastian could ask anything else.

The creek curved toward a bank of stone. The old property wall rose beyond it, gray and wet with moss. Near the bottom, roots had widened a drainage opening that should have been covered by a steel grate.

The grate lay in the leaves, its bolts cut cleanly.

Warren knelt beside it.

“This wasn’t done by children.”

“No,” Sebastian said.

He recognized the cut. Battery-powered hydraulic shears left the same compressed bright edge on vehicle locks and security cages. His people had used them often enough.

A dark stain marked the stone beyond the opening.

Theo crouched and touched it before Warren could stop him.

“It’s Micah’s.”

“How do you know?” one of the guards asked.

Theo held up his fingers. The blood had not dried completely.

“He gets nosebleeds when he’s scared.”

Warren looked toward the trees. “The shot came from north of us.”

Theo shook his head. “Sound changes near the ridge.”

The guard nearest Warren gave a brief humorless breath, almost a laugh. “Kid’s correcting ballistics now.”

Theo did not respond.

Sebastian turned to the guard. “What’s your name?”

“Davis.”

“Davis, when he speaks, listen.”

The guard’s face settled.

They passed through the opening one at a time.

On the other side, the forest floor rose sharply. Ranger found another strip of red cloth at knee height. Ten yards beyond it, Theo raised his hand.

Everyone stopped.

A man lay facedown between two trees.

His jacket was dark green, his pants black, his boots expensive. A rifle rested beneath one arm. Blood had soaked the leaves below his shoulder.

Warren moved first, kicking the rifle away and pressing two fingers to the man’s neck.

“Alive.”

The man’s eyes opened.

For half a second they remained unfocused. Then he saw Sebastian.

Something like recognition entered his face, followed by fear.

Sebastian crouched several feet away. “Where is my daughter?”

The man tried to push himself up. His wounded shoulder failed. He struck the ground with his cheek and made a sound through his teeth.

Warren rolled him enough to reach the pistol holstered at his waist. He removed it, then found a radio clipped beneath the jacket. The radio had been shot.

“Where is Ruby?” Sebastian asked again.

The man stared at him.

Theo stepped around Sebastian.

“That’s the one Ranger bit.”

The man’s gaze shifted to Theo, and hatred brought him fully awake.

“You little—”

Ranger’s growl stopped the sentence.

The dog stood on three legs, head low.

Warren searched the man’s pockets. He found plastic restraints, two loaded magazines, a folding knife, a phone with a shattered screen, and an estate security access card.

The photograph on the card belonged to a man named Peter Lang. The face did not match the wounded man.

Warren held it where Sebastian could see.

“That card was deactivated three months ago.”

“Still opens the east service doors?” Sebastian asked.

“It shouldn’t.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Warren’s eyes hardened. “I’ll check.”

The wounded man smiled faintly, blood along his teeth.

Sebastian looked at him. “You came through my house with an old card, took a six-year-old girl, and lost control of two children and an injured dog. Whoever hired you is already deciding how much of this belongs to you.”

The smile faded.

“Tell me where she is,” Sebastian said, “and Warren calls an ambulance before you bleed out.”

“You don’t call ambulances.”

“I do today.”

The man looked at Warren, perhaps searching for the lie.

A branch snapped uphill.

Warren turned sharply.