Her way out.
And maybe that’s the point.
If Ella is gone—if she’s safe, far away, and wrapped in ivy and privilege and opportunity—then whatever comes crashing down next won’t take her with it. No matter what happens to me, she’ll still have a future.
Relief flickers. Fear follows close behind.
“Vi?” she asks, finally noticing the tightness in my face. “You okay?”
I nod too quickly. “Yeah. I’m just—overwhelmed. This is huge.”
She beams and pulls me into a hug, all warmth, excitement, and trust. I hold her longer than I mean to, breathing her in like muscle memory.
“This is good,” she says softly. “Right?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s good.”
But as she pulls away, already talking about packing, schedules, and everything waiting for her on the other side of the country, the unease doesn’t fade.
Two days.
That’s all the distance between her and everything circling me now.
And if the world decides I’m guilty—if this story tightens instead of loosening—I don’t know what will be left of me when she comes back.
All I know is that she’s getting out, and I’m standing right where the fire is starting.
Chapter 23
Scarlet Zephyr — A Pretty Lie in an Ugly World
Asher
The room hums softly around me, monitors casting pale light across the walls, and each screen a quiet confession of power reclaimed.
I didn’t look away tonight. I won’t make that mistake again.
I wasn’t watching when they took her. That’s the truth I don’t say out loud.
I told myself I was crossing a line. That watching her apartment, tracking her movements, and keeping eyes on her was control slipping into obsession. I told myself she deserved privacy. That I didn’t need to see every breath she took to keep her safe.
And the moment I stopped, the city forgot its place.
Maverick moves into the room behind me, silent as always, and leaning one shoulder against the wall like he owns the space. He doesn’t interrupt my focus. He waits. He knows I’m watching Violet now—the way she sits at her kitchen table, shoulders tight, and fingers curling around a glass she hasn’t touched. She’s still shaking, even hours after they let her go.
“They pulled the full file,” Mav says finally. “Every report. Every statement. Every internal note.”
I don’t look at him. “Rossi didn’t want to.”
“No,” he agrees. “But he didn’t have a choice.”
I exhale slowly.
“Rossi says it’s too big,” Maverick continues. “Seven bodies. Fentanyl. Public panic. Once it crossed into task force territory, it stopped being something he could bury.”
That tracks.
“Press conference is already scheduled,” Mav adds. “He tried to delay it. That’s the most he could manage.”
