Chapter 39
I’ve been listening to the whoosh of the fetal monitor for almost half an hour. It’s the only thing keeping me anchored to the present so the cliff scene doesn’t replay in the back of my mind.
The room is cool, and the air smells faintly of bleach and quiet worry.
The nurse reads the screen on the monitor next to me. “That’s a good trace. Nice and steady. I’ll report this back to the doctor and see how much longer she thinks you need.” She secures the flimsy blanket over my legs and leaves.
Nice and steady.
I cling to those words like they’re oxygen.
Lara smiles at me. “That’s good news.”
She’s been here since I arrived. Gabriel called her, and Gabriel’s dad, Luis, drove her over so I wouldn’t be alone.
But until the doctor officially takes this monitor off my belly, I can’t shake the worry that something could take a turn.
I listen carefully to her rapid, underwater heartbeat.
She’s still strong. She was stubborn enough to hang on.
I’ll take stubborn—and I’ll remember this moment when she’s sixteen and getting on my last nerve.
I run my hand over my bump.
God, give me stubborn, give me sassy, give me whatever you’ve got…just give me her.
Every nurse and doctor who has come in has been positive and told me how lucky I am, as if I don’t know.
I saw it all with my own eyes. The intent in Mike Ingram’s eyes. The gun in his hand. I felt it all—the gravel sliding, the flexi cuffs biting into my wrists, the ache in my toes as they gripped crumbling earth under my boots.
My calves tighten at the memory, my body still convinced it’s balancing on nothing.
And now, lying here with nothing but time and the monitor, everything sharpens in my mind again.
Lara puts her tiny hand on my forearm. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat or drink?” She leans over and looks inside a giant tote. “I brought pomegranate juice, a fizzy Kefir drink, flavored water…”
She always has a million and one drinks on her.
“I’ll stick with water.” I don’t think my stomach can handle anything with flavor right now. My mind is reeling with way too much, and I’m not sure there’s any energy left to process food.
Until I’m discharged, I won’t stop worrying about my little girl and…Anton.
Please, please, please let him be okay.
On top of these worries, Callum got permission to come in and fill me in.
Mike confessed immediately, in the patrol car, on the way to the station. He confessed to a trail of horror stretching farther than anyone in Echo Valley could ever imagine.
Hearing it didn’t surprise me so much as settle something cold inside me. My instincts were right. My work mattered. But God, I wish being right didn’t come with so much weight.
But one thing keeps making me think I’ve been blessed. For some reason, Mike called Anton to tip him off. Or did he?
Could it have been Ingram instead?
I asked Callum to hold him and allow me to question him so long as I’m released before three. When I said I wanted to question him, I felt it was my duty as the lead officer and wanted to confront Ingram once and for all. But now, all I want is Anton. And home.
More than even answers.
Lara sits beside me, fingers woven through mine. Her hand is warm, so different from the cold prickle still lingering in my bloodstream.
“Your breathing just shifted,” she says. “You okay?”
No. Yes. Maybe.
I squeeze her hand.
“The cliff keeps replaying.” I keep it simple.
“It probably will for a long time,” she says, empathetically. My best friend knows about trauma. She knows about bad dreams. And she’s a realist. What I love about her is she’s never been one to hide from the truth, nor damn it.
She lives in a rooted way that almost makes me comfortable saying more. But for now, I only want two things. For my baby to be well enough to get out of here, and to see Anton.
I look toward the door again. The hallway outside is quiet except for footsteps now and then, rolling carts, and the distant rustle of someone drawing a curtain. A strip of fluorescent light spills across the floor tiles, blinking slightly with every shift of movement out there.
I have to trust that I’d know if something serious was wrong. But I’ve seen too many assassination documentaries. I know someone can be stable and then…not.
A soft knock sounds on the door frame, and for a split second, my heart slams so hard, I’m sure the monitor picks it up. But it isn’t Anton. It’s the nurse coming back in with a chart tucked against her side.
“Doctor said twenty more minutes on the monitor,” she says gently, checking the placement of the sensors. “Baby looks good. Consistent. No decelerations. You two are strong.”
It should settle me, but it doesn’t—not fully. Because even with a strong heartbeat filling the room like a lullaby, my mind keeps circling that missing piece.
Justin.
Why did he do what he did? Cover for a killer? Even if it was his brother. Would I? And did he know about all these women? Help cover things even in Nevada? What did he think of me all this time? Was he worried I’d crack it, and he figured he’d send his brother in again?
I still don’t understand the part he played or why he was willing to turn himself in when he had a ticket to Mexico in hand. Mike told me at the cliff’s edge that the police would be chasing a dead man. He’d planned on ending his life there at the quarry.
He thought that would save his brother. But with so much of his logic being that of a psychopath, it’s hard to use Mike’s logic to trace Ingram’s.
The thoughts lead me back to the cliff, and I rub the cuts on the front of my wrists.
Lara notices instantly. “Hey.” She shifts closer, rubbing slow circles on my arm. “Breathe.”
Poor little one has had enough of the rave that’s been my heartbeat. She needs rest. We both do. I know that but…
Lara’s eyes soften. “You’re safe now.”
A shaky laugh escapes me—humorless, tired. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I’m not allowed to solve crimes from a hospital bed?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “And also, that Anton will absolutely lose his mind if he walks in here and finds you stress-spiraling over evidence instead of resting.”
The mention of him is all it takes for the knot in my throat to return so hard it hurts. Why isn’t he here yet? Did the bullet cause more damage than they told me? Would they even want to tell me and upset me in my condition… They probably wouldn’t…
Then, the door clicks.
And Anton fills the space with that rugged, unshakeable presence—T-shirt rumpled, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, shoulders tense like he fought his way through the entire hospital to get here. But when his gaze finds me, all that hardness locks into something unbearably tender.
Everything in me breaks at once.
“Anton.” My eyes instantly flood.
Lara stands and grabs her coat. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
He wastes no time crossing the room. Suddenly, after worrying for so long, he’s right there, towering over the edge of the bed, hands on either side of my pillow. He looks like he wants to touch every part of me at once.
“You’re okay?” his voice is rough
I nod, but the tears escaping tell me that just seconds ago I wasn’t.
He cups my face and leans his forehead against mine. The contact knocks the air out of me, loosening something in my chest I didn’t even know I’d braced.
I was hanging on for this moment with more than I knew, and now, the relief floods my eyes.
Another tear slips free. I swipe at it, frustrated. “God. I swear I’m not usually this emotional.” Another escapes before I can stop it. “Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”
His thumb catches the next one. “Don’t ever hide a damn thing from me, honey.”
His blue eyes hold everything at once—safety, home, passion, and the quiet promise of a life that’s ours.
This man was ready to trade his life to avenge mine.
He leans in and kisses the dampness on my cheek, gathering the next drop with his lips.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Then…here I am.”
I echo his words from the quarry so he knows, here and now, that I feel the same way. “Right where I need to be.”
He presses a slow kiss to the corner of my mouth—full of gratitude I don’t quite understand but feel all the same.
“Freya,” he whispers against my cheek, “you have no idea what that means to me.”
I press a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, uneven beat beneath my palm. He’s shaken, too.
And he kisses me again.
Not like the stolen moments we’ve had before. This one is deep and certain, a promise pressed straight into my bones.
I fist his shirt, pulling him closer because God, I need this—need him—and the world drops away for a heartbeat, maybe two.
His breath stutters against my mouth. “Christ, Freya…you undo me.”
He tilts my chin, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides into my mouth, molten heat rolling through me. My body leans instinctively into his—wanting, hungry. The steady whoosh of the monitor doesn’t pull me out of it; it roots me deeper—a reminder of what ties us together.
We made a life. The thought sends warmth flooding through me. I cup his jaw, lifting myself into him, a soft sound breaking from my throat.
“I’m never letting you go,” he murmurs, fear still in his voice.
He’s the man I never saw coming. The one who makes me feel easy to love.
I rise into him, my hand gliding up his collarbone to the side of his throat.
And then…
A knock at the door.
It’s the doctor.
She smiles coyly. “Well, everything is looking fine from where I stand,” she teases.
I push myself back up in the bed. Anton shifts back so she can read the fetal monitor.
She has another look, but it’s brief. “Freya, we’re happy to release you.
Put the antiseptic ointment on all the scrapes you have until they scab over.
” She shakes her head. “With a mom like you and your baby’s heartbeat this strong?
I think you’ll be giving birth to a superhero. ”