"Ashworth filed a missing persons report three days ago," he says, his voice crackling slightly over the connection. "Local cops are taking it seriously because of who his daddy is—you know, the judge with connections all the way up the state government food chain. They've got her plates flagged in three states: Ohio, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania."
I grip the phone so hard the case creaks, the plastic threatening to crack under my fingers. "What else?"
"He's been in regular contact with her parents. Multiple calls, visits to their house. Telling them she's mentally unstable, maybe on drugs—prescription pills, he suggested—definitely in danger from 'the wrong crowd.' Classic manipulation. The mom's a complete wreck, apparently hasn't stopped crying. The dad's different—angry, wants to hire someone to track her down and drag her home."
I close my eyes, breathing slowly through my nose, trying to control the rage that wants to consume me, that wants to make me tear through the room and put my fist through the nearestwall. This is exactly what men like Ashworth do. They isolate. They manipulate. They systematically turn everyone against their target until she has nowhere left to run, no one left to trust.
Not this time.
"Get me a direct number for the parents," I say, my voice flat and controlled. "I'm going to make a call."
Sparrow's mother answers on the third ring.
"Mrs. Delaney?" I keep my voice calm, measured. Non-threatening. "My name is Jett. I'm a friend of your daughter's."
Silence. Then, cautious: "Where is she? Is she okay? Garrett said?—"
"Garrett lied." I cut her off, but gently. "Whatever he told you about drugs, about instability, about danger, it's not true. What is true is that he hurt her. Badly. For a long time. She ran because she had to, and she's been running ever since."
I hear a sharp intake of breath. Then crying.
"She's safe now," I continue. "She's with people who care about her. If you want to talk to her, she can call you. But she's not coming back to Ohio. And she's not going anywhere near Garrett Ashworth ever again."
The father's voice comes on the line, gruff and suspicious. "Who the hell are you? How do we know you're not just?—"
"I'm the man who's going to keep your daughter safe. That's all you need to know." I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "She loves you. She misses you. But she was too scared to call because she thought Ashworth might trace it. I'm giving you a secure number. Use it. Tell her you believe her."
I hang up before they can ask more questions.
When I find Sparrow in the storage room, surrounded by her spreadsheets and her color-coded folders, she takes one look at my face and knows something's happened.
"What is it?" she asks, her brow furrowing as she studies my expression.
"I called your parents."
The color drains from her face in an instant. "You what?"
"Ashworth's been feeding them lies for months now. Making them think you're unstable, that you're on drugs, maybe even dangerous. I set them straight. Told them the truth about what he did to you."
Her hands begin trembling visibly. I cross the cramped storage room in three strides and take them gently in mine, feeling how cold her fingers are.
"They want to hear from you, Sparrow. They're scared for you, confused about everything that's happened, but they want to believe you. I gave them a secure number that can't be traced back to here."
Tears spill down her cheeks, leaving wet tracks in their wake. "Jett, I can't— what if he finds out? What if he?—"
"He won't." I pull her against my chest, wrap my arms around her. "I've got people watching him. He can't move without me knowing. You're safe. Your parents are safe. And when this is over, you can see them again. I promise."
She cries into my shirt for a long time. I hold her and let her, stroking her hair, murmuring words I didn't know I had in me.
When she finally looks up, her eyes are red but her voice is steady. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I want to." She reaches up, traces my jaw with her fingertips. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
"You walked through my door." I press a kiss to her forehead. "That's all it took."
That night, after the bar closes, she comes to me.
