And right now, she doesn’t need me to fix it. She needs me to find her.
The split oak comes into view, massive and ancient, its hollow base darker than the surrounding shadows. I approach slowly, making enough noise that I won’t startle her.
“Swan.”
I hear her breath hitch. See a flash of pale skin in the darkness.
“Go away.”
“Not gonna happen.” I crouch a few feet from the tree, giving her space.
“Guess this means you have access to my tracker again, huh?”
I shake my head. “Stone offered. But I didn’t need it. I know where you go when shit gets bad.” I lean against a trunk, arms folded, and listen as her breathing steadies inside her little fortress of bark and memory. “Classic move, by the way. Hot-wiring a car? Duck’s proud of you, I bet.”
She’s silent for a few seconds, which is basically a confession. “The first time I did this, I got lost for hours,” she says, voice small. “I didn’t even have a phone. So I just waited in here and pretended I was a creature in a fairy tale, and that if Dad wanted me, he’d have to come all the way into the woods to find me. He never did.”
“Stone’s not a woods guy. Never has been.”
“Yeah. You were though, right?”
“Was I that obvious?” I say, trying not to smile.
She pulls her knees tighter to her chest, her voice muffled against her forearms. “You thought you were stealthy. But I always knew you were there. Never understood why you didn’t come over here instead of just lurking.”
“You needed your space, so I kept out of sight. Usually climbed up there.” I point to the heavy branch that juts out a dozen feetabove us. “Sat up in the crook, watched over you. Not to be a creep. Just . . . couldn’t leave you alone out here.”
Her head lifts, and under the moonlight I can see her cheeks streaked with dried tears. “Yeah. I know. I used to imagine you were keeping watch, like a wolf or something. Protector spirit of the club president’s ungovernable daughter.”
“Pretty sure wolves don’t eat gas station beef jerky and listen to Audioslave.”
She laughs—a wet, derelict sound—but there’s real relief in it. I’d chase that sound to the ends of the earth if it meant another second of her not crying.
“You OK?” I ask after a beat.
“No.”
The word makes my ribs ache, and I push my palms against the moss, sit with my knees up like her. There’s a soft, private quiet out here, the hush of the woods offering cover for ugly feelings. “Want to tell me what happened back there?”
Silence.
“Emma.”
“The man.” Her voice gets shaky. “The one Vernick was looking at when you told everyone it was Summit.”
“The one near the exit?”
She nods. “He was one of them. One of the men who grabbed me. Who put me in that van.” Her voice cracks and she swipes at the tears on her face.
“Are you sure?” My hands curl into fists.
“His face—I’ll never forget his face.”
I force myself to breathe, to stay calm, because Emma needs calm right now. But my mind is buzzing, searching my memories. How the fuck did one of them escape? I remember the warehouse, the men I put down. No luck, no mercy. I emptied the clip, then a spare, then made sure every one of those bastards was dead. Every single body.
Except maybe one.Fuck.
“I’ll take care of it.” I keep my voice level. “He won’t bother you again.”
