Chapter 19 Emma
C risp morning air slaps against my skin as I bolt from Eric’s house, his oversized T-shirt barely shielding me from the cold. My breath comes fast, every inhale sharp against my lungs. My legs burn, my bare feet stinging from the damp ground. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The weight of betrayal crushes my chest, pressing down until I can barely breathe.
My brothers lied to me, and Eric went along with it. He deceived me.
The man I loved and trusted, knowingly kept me from my dying father.
I feel sick. Stupid. My heart cracks open, raw and aching. Are all of the men in my life liars? Except my father, of course. My brothers have always been overprotective, but I never imagined they could be so heavy-handed. Pushing Eric to lie for them, and yes, I know he could have refused, but… It’s another example of them infantilizing me and making decisions in my life. But I can’t limit my anger to them because, even though it was their idea, Eric conspired with them. He embraced the lie, looked into my face every day, and continued to lie. If he lied about that, he could lie about anything. How can I ever trust him again?
The sharp morning wind whips at my skin, bringing tears to my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m so angry. But you know what? The more I think about it, the more angry I am with Tristan, in particular. After sending me with Eric with instructions to keep me away from home, after promising to text me every day and not doing it, he has the nerve to point the finger at Eric and try to make me feel worse by saying Dad has been asking for me every day?! As if Eric was the mastermind, enacting his own devious plans to keep me from my father. No, the blame lies squarely with my fucking brothers. Eric was stupid, yes, but he didn’t come up with the plan. They did.
My feet slow as I reach the old wooden fence between Eric’s property and his parents’ house. My fingers grip the splintered wood, knuckles white. How many times did I imagine running toward him instead of away? Dreaming of a future here, believing I belonged. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the frame. My whole life, I’ve been chasing his love, but now… I don’t know what to think.
He did tell me we should go home tomorrow to see my dad. And he said he’d go with me. That’s gotta mean something, right? He wasn’t trying to keep me here. He would have let me go at any time, if that’s what I’d wanted. In fact, he’d have taken me home himself. I have no doubt about that. He does truly care about me. I know he does. He just did something stupid.Can I really let one mistake tear us apart?
Maybe we should talk after when my brothers leave.I take a shaky breath and force my body upright. I need to get to Dad. Today. I have no plan, no clothes, no shoes, but none of it matters. I definitely don’t want to see my rat-bastard brothers, and the only place I can think to go is the Waters’ house. I’ll wait there until the coast is clear to get my stuff. I’ll talk to Eric…and I’ll let him grovel. And then, I’ll let him take me home.
I push forward, legs heavy and steps unsteady, until I reach Joanne’s front porch. My fist trembles as I knock on the door.
Footsteps. A pause. Then Annabelle pulls the door open, her face twisting in shock.
“Emma?” Her eyes scan over me, taking in my disheveled state. “What happened? Are you okay?”
I shake my head. No. I’m not okay. I may never be okay again. But I can’t get the words out.
She pulls me inside without hesitation. “Come in. You’re freezing.” She disappears down the hall, her voice trailing behind her. “I’ll grab you some pants.”
I sink onto a chair, shivering. The warmth of the house wraps around me, making me realize just how cold I was. Annabelle returns with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and I slip them on with trembling hands.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
I’m still adjusting to the warmth when Joanne steps into the room. One look at her tear-streaked face, and my stomach plummets.
“Joanne?” I push to my feet, my injured ankle screaming in protest. “What’s wrong?”
She crumples into a chair, her shoulders shaking. Annabelle casts me a worried glance before kneeling beside her mother.
“She’s been like this since last night,” Annabelle whispers. “She won’t tell me why.”
Joanne inhales sharply, her breath hitching. “It’s Huntz,” she finally says, voice cracking. “He told me… Unless I sign over the deed to our ranch, I will never see my daughter again.”
I freeze. “Your daughter?”
Her eyes shine with desperation. “Skyler… My daughter… He has her. Unless we give him the land, I’ll never see her again. He said… He said the land up north is in Misty’s name.” Her voice shakes, each word tumbling out in a frantic rush. “Skyler Bishop… My Skyler is Misty.”
The name slams into me like a freight train.
Misty. Skyler. Joanne’s daughter.
The room tilts, the puzzle pieces snapping into place, forming a picture too horrifying to grasp.
“Misty’s still missing?” My voice wavers.
“Blake is out searching now,” Annabelle says. “Derek’s gathering people to help.”
Misty isn’t just another victim of Huntz’s twisted games. She’s Joanne’s stolen baby.
I turn to Annabelle, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Where would Huntz keep her? Do you know?”
Annabelle shakes her head. “I don’t know. But… There's an old shack on the other side of the river. I—I think it’s where he kept us when he kidnapped us.” Her voice wobbles, haunted.
That’s all I need to hear.
I bolt out the door. Annabelle calls after me, but I don’t stop. My brother’s car is still parked in front of Eric’s, so I stay low, moving along the riverbank, keeping to the shadows until I reach the train bridge.
Each plank creaks beneath my weight as I cross, the river rushing below, fast and unforgiving. The air thickens with dampness, the morning fog curling around my ankles as I reach the other side.
The forest closes in, dense and wild. Branches snag at my sleeves, undergrowth tangling at my feet, but I push forward. My mind flickers back to the crude chalk map on Huntz’s wall, the spot marked with an X.
The shack has to be close.
Then, through the trees, I see it.
A rickety wooden structure barely holding together, sagging under the weight of time and decay. My stomach clenches as I creep toward the door, every instinct screaming danger. I push it open, the hinges groaning in protest.
The air inside is thick with rot and something worse—something metallic. I move fast, searching, until my eyes catch on the outline of a trapdoor partially hidden by a filthy rug. My heart hammers as I grab the rusted handle and yank it open. The hinges squeak.
“Misty?” My voice is barely a whisper, but a faint rustling catches my ears.
I climb down into the darkness.
The air is suffocating, damp and stale, the walls pressing in. My pulse races as my eyes adjust to the gloom. Misty sits curled in the corner, her wrists bound, and her face streaked with tears.
“Emma?” she whispers, voice trembling. “Is it really you?”
I rush to her side, my fingers fumbling with the thick rope. “It’s me. I’m getting you out of here.”
The knot is too tight. My hands shake as I grab a shard of broken glass from the floor, sawing at the bindings. The glass bites into my skin, warm blood trailing down my fingers, but I don’t stop.
Misty’s breaths come fast and shallow. “He—he said…” Her voice cracks. “He said he’s my father.”
I freeze.
The ropes snap free. I grab her hands, squeezing tightly. “Misty, listen to me. Huntz may be your father biologically, but he’s not your family. He kidnapped you and forced you to live in the foster system. Your real mother is Joanne Waters, and you have a family who loves you.”
Her lip trembles. “What? No… That can’t be true. He said… He said I’m his. He said he’ll finally get their land.”
I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “You’re not his. You never were. And don’t worry, he’s not taking anyone’s land.”
A sob wracks her body. “I… I think I remember. I thought it was just a dream for so many years, but I think it happened.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “That night. When he took Annabelle and Eric… I helped them escape. But he caught me.”
She blinks, her hands shaking in mine.
“He brought me back here.”
Recognition flickers in Misty’s eyes, a realization crashing down on her like a tidal wave.
I pull back slightly, my pulse hammering. “You were the one who saved Eric and Annabelle?”
Her face crumples under the weight of her memories. “We escaped, but he caught up. He—” Her voice catches, her breath hitching on the truth. “He set the fire at his own house. Framed Eric for it. But it was him. It was always him. He put me back in the system that night.” Her hands tremble as she clutches my arm. “I didn’t know about the money. The payments Eric was sending to keep Annabelle and the family, safe. Everybody knew Huntz hated the Waters. He couldn’t stand that Joanne built a life without him… after everything he did.”
Rage surges through me like a wildfire, burning through the last of my fear. I slice through the final rope binding her feet, the jagged shard of glass slick with my own blood. “We’re getting out of here, Misty. Now.”
We scramble up from the cellar, the stench of damp earth and decay clinging to our skin. The warped wooden floor groans beneath our steps as we race for the door, bursting into the dense forest beyond.
“Skyler!” Huntz’s voice cuts through the trees, raw and seething. “You can’t run from me!”
The sound sends ice through my veins. Misty stumbles, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps, but I grip her wrist and yank her forward.
“Go!” I whisper, shoving her ahead of me.
Branches whip at my face, tearing at my skin as we sprint through the tangled undergrowth. The crunch of leaves and snapping twigs tells me Huntz is closing in, his heavy footsteps pounding against the earth.
We break free from the trees and onto the train bridge, hurrying across. A whistle shrieks in the distance. The wooden planks groan beneath our weight as we skid to a stop.
Misty’s fingers dig into my arm. “Emma, what do we do?”
The vibration of an approaching train trembles through the beams beneath us. I whirl around to see Huntz stalking onto the bridge, his eyes locked on us with a predator’s focus.
Adrenaline spikes through me. “Get ready to drop!”
Misty hesitates, but I don’t give her a choice. I grip the rusted steel and lower myself beneath the bridge, clinging to the cold beams. My arms shake, the cuts on my fingers burning as I struggle to hold on. Below us, the river churns like an endless black void ready to swallow us whole.
The train thunders closer.
It’s gonna hit him. It’s gonna hit him.
But it doesn’t.
Huntz moves, lowering himself to our level, gripping the underside of the bridge like he was born in the shadows.
“I can’t swim,” Misty cries.
“Don’t look down. Just hang on!”
The train barrels over us, its vibrations rattling the beams, the deafening roar drowning out Misty’s sobs. My arms burn, my body screaming for relief, but I hold on.
And then Huntz shifts, his face twisting with rage.
A gun glints in his hand. A shot cracks through the chaos, and fire erupts in my stomach.
The pain is instant, sharp and searing, ripping through me. My fingers falter, my vision tunneling.
No. Not like this.
I remember my brother’s wife, Allie being shot. How she fought through the pain and how she survived.
Maybe I can, too. Maybe?—
But my body betrays me and my grip slips.
“Emma!” Misty’s scream shreds the air.
The world blurs as I plummet, wind rushing past me in a dizzying blend of sound and motion. Cold water slams into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. The river wraps around me, pulling me under. The world above fades, replaced by darkness, silence, nothingness.
And then—nothing at all.