This is colder than that.
Because if she had a target on her back before, it’s nothing compared to what she carries now. Knowledge is a currency in my world, and she’s holding a secret my father has spent years burying in blood.
He cannot know.
And as I stand there in the wreckage of her absence, one truth burns clear and merciless through the quiet:
Running won’t save her.
I brace my hands against the kitchen counter, bowing my head as I draw in a slow, measured breath. Then another. I let the urge surge through me, the instinct to move, to hunt, to drag her back into my arms where she belongs.
I crush it.
No.
I’m going to let her run.
For now.
I unlock my phone again and send a message to Jaxon, my fingers steady despite the storm coiling beneath my skin.
Khai:
Find a way to stall my father.
I have a runaway I need to keep safe.
The reply comes almost instantly.
Jaxon:
What did you do to make her run?
A humourless scoff leaves me.
Asshole.
Khai:
She found out the truth.
I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to. Jaxon will understand exactly what that means.
I switch apps, my focus sharpening as I pull up the building’s security feed. The cameras load one by one until I find her.
Emmy.
I watch her step into the lift, hands gripping the rails like she’s holding herself together by sheer force. Her eyes stay locked on the doors, wide and wary, until they finally slide shut. Only then does she sag slightly, a deep breath leaving her lips.
Something tightens in my chest.
In the foyer, she ducks her head and all but sprints past the security desk, hiding behind that cascade of golden hair like it might shield her from the world. The moment she exits the building; she slips behind a delivery truck and waits.
She doesn’t wait long.
A car pulls up. She climbs in quickly.
I catch a glimpse of the driver.
