Chapter 21 #3
The entire room exploded into motion at once.
“FBI!” one of the agents barked. “Hands where I can see them!”
Otto straightened slowly from where I’d hit him, one hand still pressed low against his stomach, while Randolph took a sharp step backward away from the table.
Henry didn’t even look at them.
He looked at me.
Only me.
His eyes locked onto the bruising fingerprints already darkening across my throat, and something terrifying crossed his face.
“Henry—”
He reached me in three strides.
His hands landed on my face so fast they almost hurt, scanning frantically over my throat, my jaw, my eyes like he was checking for damage while trying not to come apart at the seams himself.
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded.
I grabbed his wrists immediately.
“Don’t,” I choked out.
Because I saw it.
The way his body had already angled toward Otto. The way violence sat just beneath his skin waiting for permission.
I threw myself against him before he could move.
“He admitted it,” I gasped against his chest. “Henry, he admitted he took Abel.”
Behind us, Otto let out a rough laugh.
“I admitted no such thing.”
I spun toward him so fast Henry’s grip tightened instinctively around my waist. “You lying piece of shit—”
“It’ll be difficult to prove,” Otto continued calmly, though his voice sounded tighter now. Colder. “Especially considering your emotional state.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
SSA Chen stepped forward at last, gloves snapping sharply against her wrists as she pulled folded paperwork from inside her coat.
“Otto Keller,” she said evenly. “Or William Kellerman, depending on which decade we’re pretending this is. You’re under arrest for identity fraud, financial crimes, falsifying federal documentation, and obstruction of an ongoing trafficking investigation.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Otto actually looked unsettled.
One of the agents moved in immediately, wrenching his arms behind his back while cuffs snapped closed with a metallic click.
“You have the right to remain silent—”
“This is absurd,” Randolph snapped suddenly. “You can’t arrest someone based on speculation.”
SSA Chen turned toward him slowly and smiled.
It wasn’t warm.
“Actually,” she said, “the warrant to search Mr. Keller’s residence gave us quite a bit more than speculation.”
My pulse stumbled.
Chen glanced toward Otto while one of the agents pushed him toward the wall.
“We found several encrypted drives,” she continued. “Photographs. Financial transfers. Names.” Her gaze sharpened. “And records connecting him to Ashford Academy dating back nearly twenty years.”
Randolph’s face drained.
The second agent stepped toward him.
Randolph recoiled instantly. “Wait—”
“Dean Randall Randolph,” the agent interrupted. “We recovered communications and financial records connecting you to William Kellerman dating back years. You are being detained pending investigation into your involvement.”
“You can’t seriously believe—”
The agent grabbed his wrists.
Randolph’s composure cracked completely. “Get your hands off me!”
The outburst echoed through the café while the handcuffs snapped shut.
The agents hauled Otto toward the doors while rain lashed against the café windows hard enough to blur the world outside into shifting gray streaks.
Sweat darkened the collar of Randolph’s shirt while one of the agents kept a firm hand between his shoulders, steering him toward the exit as he sputtered half-finished arguments nobody seemed interested in hearing anymore.
SSA Chen stayed behind near the counter while another agent handed her a thick folder. Henry’s arm remained locked around my waist so tightly it almost hurt.
I didn’t ask him to loosen it.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure my legs worked without him holding me up anymore.
Chen flipped through a few pages before looking toward us. “We found enough to open everything back up.”
“Everything?” I repeated.
Her expression softened. “Cases like this are complicated. Networks like the one Ashford was tied to don’t disappear cleanly.
” She tucked the folder beneath her arm.
“It’s going to take time for my team to piece everything together properly, but Kellerman kept records.
Financial trails. Communications. Names. ”
I shuddered.
“We’re going to tie him to those missing boys,” she continued steadily. “And every file we pull apart gives us another lead, another person connected to this network. Men like him survive because nobody follows the thread far enough.” Her eyes sharpened. “We will.”
Beside me, Henry finally exhaled. “Thank you.”
Chen gave him a dry look while tugging on a pair of leather gloves. “Stay out of my database, Rothwell.”
A tired smile touched the corner of Henry’s mouth. “Not a chance.”
Agent Chen snorted softly under her breath before turning toward the doors, already pulling her phone from her coat pocket as she stepped back into the rain after the others.
My pulse still hadn’t settled correctly. Adrenaline buzzed painfully beneath my skin while overturned stools and abandoned coffee cups sat scattered around the café like evidence of a bomb going off.
Ohmygod.
I dragged both hands through my hair and turned in a slow circle like my brain suddenly had too many thoughts trying to occupy the same space.
“I have to tell Rhys. And my mom. Jesus Christ, my mom—” My stomach twisted again. “How am I even supposed to explain this? Hey, by the way, Mom, the neighbor who helped you shovel snow is actually a trafficker with two identities and an FBI investigation?”
The panic started trying to climb back up, fast enough that I barely realized I was spiraling until Henry caught my wrists gently.
“Later,” he said.
I looked at him.
Rainwater still clung to the edges of his hair. There was murder in his eyes ten minutes ago, and now all I saw was him trying to hold me together carefully enough that I didn’t crack apart in his hands.
“Breathe, baby.”
I dragged in a breath, and holy fuck, it reached all the way down this time.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years of carrying Abel around inside me like an open wound nobody could stitch closed because nobody knew where the knife had gone.
Fifteen years of my mother crying quietly in the kitchen when she thought nobody could hear her.
Fifteen years of birthdays that hurt.
Fifteen years of wondering whether my brother had been scared or cold or alone.
The grief was still there.
I didn’t think that part would ever leave. Some losses settled into your bones so completely they stopped feeling separate from you after a while.
Emotion surged so fast into my throat, I stepped into Henry and shoved my face against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair.
I know.
Henry loved me with his entire body. There was nothing restrained about it—nothing careful or partial. If the world reached for me wrong, he would’ve torn it apart with his bare hands before he let it keep me.
Maybe that should’ve frightened me.
Instead, it made me feel safe enough to finally come undone.