19. Shattered Faith #3
“Of course they did,” Olivia says bitterly. “Men like that are so good at playing the victim. At making us look crazy.”
“You’re safe now,” I tell her, meaning it. “We’ve all been where you are. And we’ll help you stay strong.”
Naomi wipes her eyes. “I just … I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to find me.”
“That’s normal,” Lydia says. “The fear doesn’t go away overnight. But it does get better. And you don’t have to face it alone anymore. Besides, Micah is a good man. He’ll keep you safe.”
“You know what the hardest part was for me?” I lean forward, meeting Naomi’s tear-filled gaze. “Learning to trust my own judgment again. They mess with our heads so much that we start doubting everything—even the simplest decisions.”
“God, yes.” Naomi wipes her eyes with the tissue Lydia hands her. “Sometimes I still catch myself thinking ‘Lucas wouldn’t like this’ or ‘Lucas would say I’m being stupid.’”
“But you’re not stupid,” Olivia says fiercely. “You’re brave as hell. Do you know how many women never find the strength to leave?”
“Exactly,” Lydia adds. “Every day you stay away is a victory. Every time you choose yourself over his lies, you’re winning.”
Naomi straightens in her chair, her shoulders squaring. “I keep thinking about who I used to be. Before Lucas. I was going to open my own bakery, you know? I had all these dreams.”
“Those dreams aren’t dead,” I tell her. “They’re just waiting for you to be ready to chase them again.”
“And when you are,” Olivia says, “you’ll have us backing you every step of the way. That’s what this sisterhood is about.”
“She’s right.” Lydia reaches over and takes Naomi’s hand. “We’re stronger together. Each of us has been where you are, and each of us found our way back to ourselves. You will too.”
A tear rolls down Naomi’s cheek, but she’s smiling now. “When Micah brought me here, I was so scared. But you all understand. You really understand.”
“And we’re not going anywhere,” I promise her. “Whether you need someone to talk to at three in the morning, or help finding a lawyer, or just a shoulder to cry on—we’ve got you.”
For the first time since she walked in, I see real hope in Naomi’s eyes. It’s the same look I remember seeing in my own reflection the day I realized I wasn’t alone anymore.
I lean against the folding table as Naomi hugs Lydia goodbye. Something warm unfurls in my chest at the exchange.
“Want to grab a drink?” Olivia asks, shouldering her designer purse. “I could use something stronger than support meeting coffee.”
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. Probably Zeke checking in. He’s been hovering since my breakdown earlier, like he expects me to take off and never come back. I don’t blame him. I was emotional.
I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown Caller
Someone’s going to die.
My fingers go numb, and I almost drop the phone. The fluorescent lights are suddenly too harsh. My heart pounds against my ribs as memories from the last several weeks flood my thoughts.
“Eve?” Olivia touches my arm. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I try to speak but my throat’s too tight. Instead, I hold up my phone with trembling fingers. Olivia reads the message, her face draining of color.
“Shit,” she whispers. “That’s—fuck. Do you think it’s connected to what happened to Seb?”
Everything has to be connected. The attack at my house, the string of brutal rapes, Seb getting shot, the messages … they’re escalating. And I’m trapped in the middle.
“We should tell Zeke,” Olivia says, already reaching for her phone.
My stomach lurches. “No.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “Not yet. I need to think.”
But all I can think about is blood in our house, the gun in my hand, and the sickening certainty that someone is going to die because of me.
My hands shake as I shove my phone into my back pocket, desperate to hide the threatening text from view. But I can’t hide from the implications—or from the cold fear slithering down my spine.
“Eve?” Olivia’s voice is distant, muffled by the thundering of my pulse in my ears. “Maybe we should—”
“I need air.” I’m already moving toward the exit. The lights blur overhead as I push through the double doors into the cool night air. It feels like someone’s wrapped steel bands around my ribs.
Leaning against the rough brick wall, I try to steady my breathing. But all I can think about is Leo sleeping peacefully at home. And Zeke—God, Zeke with his stubborn pride and his need to protect everyone. I picture him bleeding on our floor just like his brother.
A car backfires somewhere in the distance, and I flinch hard enough to scrape my knuckles against the brick.
The pain barely registers through the fog of panic.
Someone wants to hurt us—wants to hurt them, the people I love.
Is it because of me? Because I’m a cop? Or is it because of whatever Zeke and Seb were doing when they got ambushed?
My phone feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I should report the threat, follow protocol, let my department handle it. But that would mean exposing Zeke’s world to scrutiny, and I’ve seen enough to know it would end badly for everyone.
The steel bands around my ribs tighten. I’m supposed to protect people, uphold the law. Instead, I’m standing here, paralyzed by fear and indecision while threats pile up around us like storm clouds.
The door creaks open behind me. “Eve?” Lydia’s voice is gentle. “Come back inside. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”
My hands shake as I turn to face my friends. They’re all there—Lydia with her concerned mother-hen expression, Olivia looking fierce and ready for battle, and even Naomi, hesitant but present.
“I never told you about that night,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “About Giovanni Costa.”
Olivia’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence. She knows the significance of that name.
We move back inside, claiming our usual corner.
The empty room feels safer somehow, more intimate.
The words spill out—the sound of footsteps in my house, the terror of Leo getting hurt, the cold certainty that I could die, and how Zeke was there to make sure that didn’t happen.
I explain the entire situation. About why I can’t involve my department, the need for no police involvement. I don’t leave out any details.
“Jesus Christ,” Lydia breathes, reaching for my hand. Her fingers are warm and steady against my cold ones.
“But you survived,” Olivia says. “Zeke saved you.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “And now someone’s threatening me again. Us. All of us.” I pull out my phone, showing them the message. “This isn’t just about me anymore. Seb got shot. Leo saw—” My voice cracks. “He saw so much blood.”
“Now I understand why Seb asked me about my connections. He said I could help, and I didn’t believe him,” Olivia says, leaning forward. Her eyes are sharp with determination. “I still have connections in New York. People who owe me favors. Let me make some calls, see what I can find out.”
“We’ll take shifts staying with Leo,” Lydia adds. “He shouldn’t be alone, and you need backup.”
Naomi, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “I know what it’s like, living in fear. But you’re not alone anymore. None of us are.”
Looking at their determined faces, I feel something shift inside me. The fear is still there, but it’s not as overwhelming. These women understand—really understand—what it means to fight back from the edge of darkness.