“Keep trying,” I say, already moving. “Message me the moment you find him.”
I end the call, the certainty settling deep in my bones.
This is my father’s doing.
I pull up the surveillance app again, my gaze locking onto the blinking blue dot. Emmy. Still at Tate’s. Safe.
I release a slow breath, the smallest mercy in a day full of fractures.
As I head for the lift, grabbing my bike keys on the way, my phone vibrates.
A text.
I open it immediately, expecting Keys.
It isn’t.
It’s from my father.
An image loads.
And the world spins.
Jaxon is tied to a chair in the warehouse, blood streaking his face, his body slumped but breathing. A gun barrel is pressed to his temple, close enough to leave a mark.
My father’s message is wordless.
He doesn’t need to say anything.
He’s already made his point.
And now, there is no choice left at all.
Chapter Thirty
Emmy
Tate’s front door closes behind me with a soft click, a sound far too loud in the stillness that follows.
For the first time since I ran, I stop.
My back presses against the door as if it’s the only thing keeping me upright. My chest tightens, breath stuttering as the adrenaline that carried me this far finally drains away. What’s left behind is a tremor that seeps deep into my bones, slow and relentless.
Safe, I tell myself.
The word feels thin. Fragile. Temporary, like glass held together by hope alone.
Tate stands a few steps away, her eyes sharp with worry, watching me like she’s afraid I might shatter if she looks too hard. “Emmy,” she says softly. “Talk to me. What happened?”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes.
Because how do I explain a man who felt like sanctuary and destruction all at once? How do I tell her that the danger isn’t something I ran from, it’s something that wrapped itself around my heart and hasn’t let go?
The truth presses against my ribs, desperate to escape.
But I swallow it down.
