Chapter 40
BELLE
Iknew where he was going. Even in the chaos with the rain blinding me and my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest— I knew.
“Dad!” I shouted into the storm as I ran, but the wind ripped the sound away before it could carry.
He wasn’t heading toward the road. He wasn’t heading toward the lights. He was heading somewhere familiar and somewhere safe. The treehouse.
The realization hit me like lightning.
He built it for me when I was little. Spent weekends out there with scrap wood and stubborn determination until it stood crooked but solid, tucked just far enough into the trees to feel like a secret.
We had spent days there by the river, fishing lines tangled and eating sandwiches. We told stories like they mattered more than anything else in the world.
That was where he would go.
I fumbled with the door, hands slick from rain, and hauled myself inside. The engine roared as I slammed it into gear and peeled out of the lot, tires slipping before catching.
The narrow road behind the diner curved toward the tree line, barely visible under the storm. Water rushed across it in shallow streams, mud slicking the edges.
“Come on, come on—” I muttered, gripping the wheel.
The van fishtailed as I turned too sharply.
Correct.
Breathe.
Focus.
Another curve.
Too fast.
The tires lost traction.
“No—”
The van skidded sideways, hydroplaning just enough to send me off the edge of the road.
Impact jolted me. The front end slammed hard into a tree. The engine sputtered but didn’t die.
For a second, everything went still.
Rain.
Thunder.
My pulse.
Then I moved.
I shoved the door open and stumbled out, barely registering the sting in my shoulder as I hit the ground and pushed back up.
The van stayed running behind me, headlights cutting jagged beams through the rain and branches. I didn’t look back. I ran.
Mud sucked at my shoes, sliding under my feet as I pushed deeper into the trees. Branches snagged at my clothes, rain plastering everything to my skin.
“Dad!” I screamed again.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the woods in stark flashes of white.
For a heartbeat, everything became visible.
The path ahead and the slope on the ground.
Then darkness again.
I kept going.
Because I knew where he was.
I just had to get there before the storm did something worse.
I found him.
For one split second, relief hit so hard it almost dropped me to my knees.
“Dad!”
He turned.
His face lit up with something softer.
“Pumpkin?” he said.
My chest cracked.
“Hey,” I said, forcing my voice steady as I stepped closer through the mud. “Hey, it’s me.”
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said gently, like I was small again. “It’s not safe. Storm’s coming.”
“It’s already here,” I said, trying to smile. “Let’s go back, okay?”
He shook his head, looking past me.
“No, no. We were building something. I have to finish it.”
My stomach dropped. The treehouse.
“Dad . . . ” I tried again, softer. “That was a long time ago.”
He frowned, confused. “No, I just— I just needed a few more boards. You were waiting.”
The river roared behind him. Louder than I’d ever heard it. Swollen from the storm, water rushed quickly and violently over the rocks below. The bank was slick, mud sliding toward the edge in slow, dangerous shifts.
And he was too close.
“Hey,” I said, taking another careful step forward. “You already built it. Remember? It was perfect.”
He looked at me, really looked this time, but it didn’t land.
“It’s not finished,” he insisted.
“It is. I promise. You did such a good job.”
He smiled faintly at that. Then he took another step toward the edge.
“Dad—”
My heart slammed into my throat.
“It’s right down there,” he said, peering over. “I can see where it should go—”
“Stop.”
My voice cracked sharp through the storm. He didn’t. His foot slid, just a little, but enough.
I lunged. “Dad!”
I grabbed for him, fingers catching his jacket, but the mud gave out beneath me.
Everything tilted.
My feet slipped out from under me, and I went down hard, sliding sideways off the embankment.
I fell. Not far, six feet maybe, but enough.
I hit the lower slope hard, my knee twisting painfully on impact.
“Fuck—”
The word tore out of me as white-hot pain shot up my leg. Rain pounded down, mud soaking through my clothes instantly. Above me, I could hear him.
“Belle?” he called, confused now. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m here!” I shouted back, trying to push myself up.
My knee screamed in protest. Not again.
“Stay where you are!” I yelled. “Don’t move!”
I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands. Mud smeared across the screen. I wiped it on my shirt. I pressed the power button. Nothing.
“Come on, come on—”
Dead or not turning on, but either way, it was useless.
I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to think through the pain, through the rain, through the rising panic clawing up my throat.
He was still up there.
Still too close to the edge.
And I couldn’t climb back up fast enough like this.
“Dad!” I called again, forcing calm into my voice. “Just—just stay there, okay? I’m coming up.”
But even as I said it, I knew I wasn’t getting up that slope easily. Not with my knee screaming and the mud turning everything into a slide.
Then through the storm—
I heard it.
“Belle!”
It was low and rough. Carrying through the rain like it was cutting through it instead of being swallowed by it.
My breath hitched. Relief crashed into me so hard it almost hurt.
“Raph!” I shouted back, voice breaking. “I’m here!”
The storm roared.
But this time, I wasn’t alone in it.