Chapter 12
TWELVE
Emily
The sound of my phone ringing drags me out of sleep. My eyes fly open, my body aching like I have been folded wrong. I shove the blanket off and turn my head, searching for Daisy. She should be here. She always jumps onto the bed and curls up beside me.
She is not there.
I sit up, scanning the room. Nothing looks out of place. The phone keeps ringing, louder now, but I don’t see it.
The bedroom door is open.
I swing my legs off the bed and walk into the living room. My phone sits on the table, screen lit. Relief slips out of me in a quiet breath as I drop onto the chair and grab it.
Mia is calling on FaceTime.
I answer.
This time, it is not a ceiling or a shaking hand with a ring. It is her face. Puffy. Bruised. One eye is swollen, almost shut.
I sink back into the chair, my attention locking onto the screen. “What happened?”
She sniffles. Her lips tremble. Tears cling to her lashes before spilling over. “He cheated, Em.” Her voice cracks. “I caught him with his assistant.”
My stomach twists. “Shit.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her phone shifts as she sets it down. The sound that comes out of her next is raw and broken, like something tearing loose inside her.
“Last night,” she says, her voice lower now. “He came home drunk and…”
“What happened?” I ask.
She can’t answer. Her shoulders shake. She sucks in air like she is drowning, quiet sobs breaking through no matter how hard she tries to stop them.
“Mia,” I say gently. “You can tell me.”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand. Her voice comes out strangled. “I told him no.” She swallows. “But he did it anyway.”
Her crying grows louder, messier.
“Em,” she whispers. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know,” I say immediately. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She goes quiet. Her gaze drops to something off-screen. Her shoulders slump.
“I can’t leave,” she says.
My chest tightens. “What do you mean you can’t?” Panic slips into my voice. “You’re leaving him. You’re coming to Eureka Springs.”
She shakes her head. “I just… I can’t.”
I stand and start pacing across the living room. My pulse thunders in my ears as I glance down the hallway again.
Where the hell is Daisy?
The thought barely registers, my mind split between fear for her and anger for what happened to Mia.
I sit back down. “Mia,” I say, forcing my voice to steady. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. Not even a little. And I believe you.”
Her eyes fill again.
“When you’re ready,” I continue softly, “we’ll figure out the next step together. Reporting him. Getting you out. Whatever you decide, I’m with you. But you’re not staying there alone.”
She wipes her cheeks with shaking hands, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” I say. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
“Em,” she whispers, “I... I have to go,” she wipes her tears.
I could hear the footsteps.
“No, Mia, stay on the line,” I say to her, my hands shaking, “Mia.”
“I will be okay,” she says, “I promise.” She smiles, trying to comfort me, but I can see it’s forced.
And as the screen turns blank and she hangs up the phone, I say, “Fuck.”
The phone feels too light in my hand.
I stare at the blank screen, my thumb hovering over Mia’s name, waiting for it to light up again. My heart is pounding so hard it makes me dizzy while every second stretches.
I replay her voice in my head, and my stomach twists.
I try calling her back. It rings once. Then voicemail.
“Fuck,” I whisper again, my voice breaking this time.
I set the phone on the table like it might explode and pace the living room, dragging my hands through my hair.
I can’t sit.
I can’t breathe right.
My head now tilted towards Daisy’s bed, but she isn’t there.
“Daisy,” I call her, “Daisy, baby, where are you?”
Something feels wrong.
My body still hurts from last night, sore in a way that feels almost like I got beaten. I try to remember what happened, but my mind gives me nothing solid to hold onto.
The dining room table is empty.
I stop short. Files that should be stacked there are gone. The surface is bare, wiped clean as if no one had ever been here. A cold unease settles in my chest as I scan the room, trying to stitch together fragments of memory that refuse to surface.
I turn toward the front door.
Pain explodes through my foot.
“Damn it,” I shout, hopping back as I look down. A shard of glass juts from my skin. My gaze lifts, sweeping the room, and my stomach drops. The vase that usually sits on the table is gone, too.
My breathing turns shallow as I bend down and pull the glass free. Blood beads instantly. I carry the shard to the kitchen and set it on the counter, my hands trembling.
I caught a reflection in my window. I am wearing an oversized plain black T-shirt with nothing underneath.
I stare down at myself, confused. I don’t even remember taking off my clothes.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my mind to work. The only thing that comes back is a dream. Zayne Mercer. His face. His voice. The way it always felt too real.
As the images flicker in my head, something else catches my attention.
The front door is open.
A sharp sound tears out of my throat. “No.”
My heart slams against my ribs. “Daisy.”
I rush forward and fling the door open wider, cold air hitting my bare legs as I stumble outside.
“Daisy!” I shout.
Panic crashes into me.
My hands claw through my hair as I step onto the cold ground, barefoot. “Daisy!”
I turn in circles, my breath coming too fast, then too shallow. The street blurs at the corner of my eyes. My chest burns like it is collapsing inward.
“Daisy!” My voice cracks as I scream her name again.
Without thinking, I move toward the Ozark woods. Dirt and gravel bite into my feet, but I barely feel it. Tears spill down my face, unstoppable. My thoughts spiral wildly.
What if she is hurt? What if she ran? What if someone took her?
I can’t breathe.
I just keep calling her name, again and again, but just the silence answers back every time.
I’m failing at the only thing I am good at. Loving her. Taking care of her. In her short life, I failed to make her feel safe.
All I can think about is how she came into my life two years ago.
How, in such a short time, she put air back into my lungs.
Every time I wanted to reach for a razor blade to cut myself, she gave me a reason not to cut.
Every time I came home exhausted from work, she was there, tail wagging, eyes bright, pulling me back to life.
When my thoughts grew too heavy to carry and getting out of bed felt impossible, she forced me up, nudging my hand, reminding me that even if now is the worst, it doesn’t mean later can’t be better.
I replay every moment I should have done better.
The nights I was too tired. The days I was distracted.
The times I didn’t notice fast enough. But she never once looked at me like I was failing her.
Not when my hands shook. Not when my eyes were hollow.
Not when all I had to give was the bare minimum required to stay alive.
To her, I was still home. I am still home.
She gives me life when I don’t want mine.
And now I am failing her again, because the thought of her somewhere alone and scared claws into me and doesn’t let go.
I turn, walking deeper into the Ozark, shouting her name.“Daisy.”
Thunder rolls above me. The clouds darken to a heavy gray, folding in on themselves. Rain starts to fall as I move through the trees. Cold seeps into my feet, into my skin. I rub my arms as I run, dressed in nothing but a thin T-shirt. My breath fogs in front of my face with every step.
Someone is watching me.
The feeling crawls up my spine. That sense of being followed, of not being alone, clings to me no matter how fast I move.
I gasp and slip, sliding down into the mud. My palms burn as they hit the ground. I push myself up and run again.
Footsteps pound behind me. My heart slams harder, louder, until I hear it in my ears, tangled with my breath. I can’t shout for Daisy. I can’t scream for help. I know it is useless. Completely useless.
My phone is at home. There is no one to call. All I can think about is getting back to the path, getting out of the Ozark, and getting home.
Maybe she is waiting for me.
I turn my head.
Someone is there. Close now. Following me.
It’s the same man. The same one I noticed days ago when I took Daisy for a walk.
I scream.
Cold burns through my feet as I push myself faster, crashing through branches and wet leaves. The man is chasing me. Then I hear his voice.
“Emily Beckett.”
I stop and look back.
“Rourke?” I shout.
Instead of running away, I run toward him. The moment I see his face, I collide with his chest and wrap my arms around him. My body shakes, breath coming apart in my throat.
He gently pushes me back. Rain pours down on both of us now. His brows knit together as he struggles to catch his breath, water slowly sliding down his face.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” he asks.
He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
“Daisy ran away,” I say, pulling the jacket tighter around myself.
“How?” he asks, holding the front closed as he looks down at me.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I…” The words stall in my throat. I stop myself and look at him. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“No,” he answers immediately. “Mara said they found another body. I wanted to see the scene myself before the rain washes it away.”
“When?” I ask.
“Two hours ago,” he says. “They just took the body to the morgue.”
I swallow hard. “Do they think it’s Mercer?”
His jaw tightens as he nods. “They are starting to think we have the wrong person.”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s take you home.”
“But Daisy,” I say. My teeth chatter now, the cold sinking deeper into my bones.
“When the rain stops,” he says.
He nudges me forward, guiding me away from the trees. His eyes drop to my bare feet, streaked with mud. Without another word, he scoops me up, lifting me easily and carrying me toward the path.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his chest. His heartbeat is solid beneath my ear.
They say we meet certain people to learn something before a blessing arrives.
I don’t know if I believe in that. But something in me knows Rourke didn’t enter my life by accident.
Some people don’t need permission or a reason.
They show up anyway, always at the wrong time or the exact right one.
Even when you want someone else in their place, no matter how hard you push them away, they return, lifting you when you can’t lift yourself, forcing you to become someone you need.
“I think there is something wrong with me,” I say into his chest. “I am seeing things.”
He stops in the middle of the path, but he says nothing.
“I have dreams,” I continue, swallowing thickly. “About Mercer.”
Still nothing.
“I think he did something to me.” I lift my face to look at him.
“I know,” he says. His jaw clenches so tightly it trembles. “My wife had the same look you do when you talk about him.” He starts walking again. “She was his music teacher.”
My stomach twists.
“She had dreams too,” he says. “She got pregnant from those dreams.”
He sets me down gently, then turns me to face him. His hands stay on my arms, firm now.
“He is a killer, Emily,” he says. “And somehow, he is finding a way out of that hospital to get to you.”
My heart races, pounding against my ribs.
“And I am going to prove it.”His finger presses against my chest, his eyes locked onto mine.
He starts walking, his back turning to me.“You coming?” he says over his shoulder.
I stood frozen. My feet feel rooted to the ground, and my body locked in place.
“There are two of them,” I finally shout.
He turns instantly, rain slicking his hair to his face as his eyes lock onto mine.
“One was raised in the lab at the Institute,” I say, the words spilling out now. “The other was raised in the UK with the doctor’s wife.”
His expression hardens. “Does anyone else know about this?” he asks.
“No,” I say. My throat tightens. “I have no proof.” I hesitate, then add, “Yet.”
He closes his eyes, like he is forcing himself not to explode. When he opens them again, he mutters something under his breath. He steps back toward me and lifts me into his arms without asking.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Can you be quiet until we get to your home?” he says. “I am trying to think.”
I nod. My arms fold across my chest as he carries me through the rain.
Daisy stays pressed against my thoughts, my chest tighter with every step. Then Mia’s voice slips in too, layered over everything else.
I am losing it.