“Emma, the worst mistake I ever made was assuming the threat wasn’t real.” Conviction resounded in Kate's words. “Please don’t make the same mistake I did.”
“I’m not—” Emma started, then stopped.
What was she doing?
Arguing with people who had already lived through what she was dismissing? Defending her pride? Protecting her independence? Or refusing to admit she might actually be afraid? Might need help?
“When Zach Steele tells you something is dangerous, you listen,” Kate said. “I’m alive because I did.”
Emma closed her eyes. She reached up to adjust the towel around her hair, buying herself a moment to think.
To feel.
Fear prickled at the edges of her awareness—the kind she’d been pushing down all day. The kind that whisperedwhat ifin the quiet moments.
“You’re not being brave, Emma,” Kate said, gentler this time. “You’re being stubborn.”
The words stung because they were true.
Movement sounded on the other end of the line—a door opening, footsteps.
“Is that Emma?” Lena’s voice, distant.
“Yes,” Kate’s voice muffled, as if her hand covered the microphone. Whispers seeped through: Kate was obviously updating her.
A click, and the audio expanded. Emma could hear the ambient sounds of Kate’s office now—the faint hum of a computer, the rustle of papers.
“Emma Vann,” Lena's warmth and exasperation were unmistakable even through the lousy speakerphone. “Tell me you’re not being an idiot.”
Despite everything, a smile tugged at her lips. “Hi, Lena.”
“Don’t ‘Hi, Lena’ me. Kate told me what’s happening.”
“It’s not?—”
“If you say ‘it’s not a big deal,’ I’m going to reach through this phone and smack you.”
Emma laughed—a short, startled sound. Trust Lena to cut straight through the tension.
“Emma,” Lena’s voice softened. “I ignored warning signs once. You know what happened.”
Her smile faded. Emma did know. Lena had told her about Chester. The stalking. The escalation.
“You don’t get extra points for being brave,” she continued. “Trust me. I’ve been there. I moved into their guest suite, remember?”
Emma’s throat tightened. She stared at the table, at the grain of the wood blurring from the moisture in her eyes.
“Let the people who care about you protect you,” Lena murmured. “You don’t have to face every threat alone.”
The words settled into Emma’s chest, pressing against something tender and guarded. This was what she’d been running from her whole life, wasn’t it? Letting people in. Letting them matter enough to change her choices.
Her mother had done that—let love reshape everything, built her life around other people instead of herself. Chosen family over career. Dependence over independence. Emma had sworn she wouldn’t do that.
But this wasn’t the same. Was it?
“Emma,” Kate's voice was gentle, careful, “people who send threats don’t always stop at threats. Sometimes they’re just announcing what comes next.”
Emma’s hand pressed harder against her chest. Her heartbeat was too fast, too loud. She thought of the note. The block print. The precision of the words. ‘You don’t belong here.’
