And now she is standing there alone because I disappeared.
Something settles in my chest then. Not panic.
Clarity.
I won’t let her carry this alone. Not again. Not ever.
Not when the only reason she’s unsure is because I taught her to be.
The apartment feels charged now. Awake.
I don’t give myself time to think.
I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and move fast. Afraid that if I slow down, fear will win again.
The hallway blurs as I jog toward the elevator. The doors feel too slow. I jab the button harder than necessary, chest tight with urgency and something that feels a lot like terror dressed up as hope.
The doors finally slide open.
I step inside. Hit the garage button.
As the elevator descends, the silence presses in.
Just me and the truth I stopped running from.
I whisper it into the empty metal box, like the building itself might carry it to her.
“Hold on, Lila.”
The doors open.
I stride into the garage, the concrete echoing my steps. My truck waits at the far end, familiar and solid and suddenly not enough to slow the pounding in my chest.
I climb in. Slam the door.
For a split second, I sit there gripping the steering wheel, breath shallow, heart trying to punch its way out of my ribs.
Then I turn the key.
The engine roars to life.
And with it, something in me finally locks into place.
I pull out of the garage, tires squealing just a little as I hit the ramp.
“I’m coming for you,” I say aloud, voice rough, certain.
“And this time?”
I press the accelerator.
“I’m not walking away.”
Chapter thirty-three
Lila
The headset mic is too tight against my cheek.
