I looked toward the bedroom door. "She is now," I said. "But she's been through hell." I thought of the bruise on her cheek and the way she’d hummed that song while holding a gun.
"Bring her home, son. Let me know when you’re heading this way. I’ll send the jet. We'll handle the rest when you get here."
I hung up and looked at Cartier. “Be ready to leave after the storm.”
I walked toward the bedroom, easing the door open. The only light came from the moon slipping through the gap in the curtains. Chloe shifted in her sleep, a small, pained sound leaving her lips. I sat on the edge of the bed, not touching her, just watching. I was a man who moved armies, a man who had fought warlords. But as I looked at her and thought about all thathad been stolen from her—her money, her mind—I felt helpless because I knew for certain that this was a battle I could win.
Chapter 22: Killian
I was seated in an armchair by the window. I could smell the rain through the glass as it fell from the sky, my gaze fixed on the bed where Chloe lay. I couldn't stop the cycle of thoughts. I kept replaying the files Cartier had shown me—the siphoned millions and the draft for that "care facility" in South America. But mostly, I kept hearing Ava’s voice in that hallway.
“We should’ve killed her like we did her mother.”
How could a person be that cruel? To look at a child and decide to bury her alive in an attic just to keep the keys to a kingdom that wasn't yours? Arthur and Ava weren't just greedy; they were predators who had hunted a little girl for fourteen years.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Dr. Aris Thorne. She was the best neuro-trauma specialist I knew and worked with women who suffered domestic violence. She was the kind of doctor who didn't just look at charts, but at the person.
"Killian," she answered, her voice sounding muffled. "I saw your messages. But I can’t see her anytime soon. I'm in London for a conference. I won't be back stateside for another week."
"I need you, Aris," I said, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't wake Chloe.
“I understand, and I’ll help. I owe you. How’s she doing?”
"I got her out. She’s been sleeping. She’s safe, but the legal battle is going to be a bloodbath. I need a formal psychiatric evaluation from someone I trust. I need proof that she is of sound mind so Arthur can't claim she was kidnapped or mentally incompetent."
"I understand," Aris sighed. "When the conference is over, I’ll switch my flight from L.A. to New Orleans and I'll contact you as soon as I land. But Killian, if she's been isolated for fourteen years, coupled with the abuse, she’s going to be fragile.”
I looked over at Chloe; "fragile" wasn’t what I’d describe her as. Aris continued.
“You’re a soldier—you aren't equipped for the emotional fallout of this kind of trauma. You need a woman in there with her. Someone she can talk to who isn't... well, you."
"Who do you suggest?"
"Call Julian. His wife, Elara, is perfect. She’s a high-level advocate for women's shelters in D.C. She’s Black, she’s older, she’s established, and she has a way of making people feel safe without being condescending. Chloe needs someone she can identify with—someone who represents the strength she’s been denied."
I nodded to the empty room. "I'll call Julian."
"Have her meet you when you get to your grandfather's estate. Let her introduce herself and just be a presence. When I get back, I’ll do the clinical work. If she’s like you said she is, we’ll prove she’s the sharpest person in the room."
I hung up, already pulling up Julian’s contact, when a small sound came from the bed. Chloe was waking up.
She sat up slowly, the white sheets pooling around her waist. For a moment, she looked lost, her eyes darting around the hotel room as if she were waiting for the walls to shrink back into the attic. Then her gaze landed on me.
I could see the clarity hit her all at once. The drive. The escape. The fact that the lock was finally, truly gone. She didn't say a word. She just burst into tears—not the silent, shaking sobs I’d seen in the attic, but a loud, racking release of fourteen years of held breath.
I was across the room in two strides. I pulled her into my arms, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her tight. She buried her face in my neck, her hands clutching at my shirt so tightly I thought the fabric might rip.
"Thank you," she sobbed, the words muffled against my skin. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
I didn't tell her it was okay. I didn't tell her to be quiet. I just held her, my own throat tight, because watching her break was breaking something in me, too.
"I've got you, Chloe," I whispered into her hair. "I've got you."
Chapter 23: Killian
I woke up, and for a second, I didn’t know where I was. I could hear the rain, smell flowers and expensive coffee, and hear the sound of typing. The last thing I remembered was Chloe crying.
“Good morning, Killian.”
