My whole body vibrates with the urge to run straight into the chaos, to tear through that house and grab my son.
I shove the car door open and step out.
Liam’s voice shouts after me, telling me to get back, to stay inside, that it’s not safe, but it feels miles away, muffled under the rush in my ears.
“Emma—stop!” he yells, and the fear in his voice is sharp enough to cut through the chaos. He’s already out of the car, sprinting after me, his footsteps pounding behind mine. Not to hold me back.
To shield me.
I feel him close, his body angled protectively toward mine, ready to take whatever danger is ahead, trying to slide in front of me even as I push forward.
Around us, the neighborhood stirs awake—doors opening, voices rising, people shouting, calling the police.
There are a dozen sounds, a dozen frantic noises.
But only one cuts through everything.
A terrified voice.
A little boy, screaming, “Mommy!”
29
LIAM
Oh,fuck.
Emma takes off like she’s been shot out of a cannon, and my heart nearly stops.
I don’t think—I just run.
“Emma! Get back!”
My voice cracks, but she doesn’t even flinch.
She’s gone, already halfway across the street, laser-focused on that house as if nothing else exists.
God.
She’s going to get herself killed.
The whole neighborhood is chaotic—people shouting, doors slamming, someone crying, someone screaming at a 911 operator.
Cars revving.
Dogs barking.
It’s all one giant, messy blur.
Until I hear it.
A tiny, terrified voice that slices through everything like a blade.
“Mommy!”
My stomach drops.
My vision tunnels.
