29. Eli
Eli
CJ is quiet when he walks back into the room.
I don’t see who called, but I see it on his face. That alone is enough. Something in me tightens before he even speaks.
Finn and Deck go still, too, like the air itself has changed pressure.
CJ doesn’t sit beside me like he normally does. He leaves space between us, like he needs it to breathe through whatever he’s about to say, and takes my hands instead.
“Ree called.”
I blink. I didn’t even know they were in contact, and CJ answers the question before I can ask it.
“Deck found her. Gave her my number for emergencies. We didn’t want to bring you into it until Adrian was found.”
I nod slowly. Waiting. Because something in his voice already tells me this isn’t the end of it.
“Baby…” His thumb moves over my knuckles, slower now. Careful. Like he’s trying not to break me with what comes next.
“Marge passed away this morning.”
For a second, everything goes quiet. Even the room seems to hold its breath. The only sound is Cheap moving softly in his cage.
I nod again.
“Okay.”
My voice sounds wrong. Too steady. Too distant. Like I’m reading a script instead of feeling it.
“She was sick,” I add quietly, like naming it will make it make sense. “This was going to happen.”
But the steadiness of it all feels false. My voice is trying to pretend my chest isn’t already cracking open.
CJ’s grip tightens slightly. Not painful. Just present. Anchoring.
And then I see it.
His eyes flick to Deck.
“There’s more.”
CJ says it before anyone else can, and Deck nods once. CJ’s next words shock me to my core.
“Adrian visited her.”
My fingers tighten around his instantly. My body goes still in a way that has nothing to do with calm.
“He asked about you,” CJ continues softly. “Where you might be.”
I already knew.
Some part of me already knew before he said it.
But hearing it still cracks something open. I’m angry.
Angry for Marge. Angry for me. It burns low and sharp; it doesn’t flare. It settles deep. I hate the way Adrian turns people into tools without ever touching them directly.
Marge’s face flashes in my mind. Her soft voice. Her tired eyes. Asking if I had eaten. Telling me to stay warm. Talking about Campbell River like it was something gentle instead of just a place on a map.
She saved me, and now she’s gone.
“She didn’t know,” CJ says quickly. “She wasn’t aware. It wasn’t intentional.”
I nod. “I know.”
And I do. I know what medication does. I know what confusion looks like. I know she wouldn’t have given him anything if she had been fully herself.
“I know,” I repeat, softer this time, looking at CJ.
But it doesn’t make it easier. Because there is no one to hate here except the one person it always comes back to.
“I’m not angry with her,” I say quietly. “None of this is on her.”
My eyes sting now.
“This belongs to him.”
Adrian. His name feels like poison in my mouth. I need air. I stand and look down at CJ.
“I need a walk.”
CJ doesn’t argue. He just nods and stands, but I shake my head. “I want to go alone.”
I look at him when I say it, daring him to fight me, even though I don’t want him to.
Finn stands immediately. “I’ll come.”
No hesitation. No argument. Just fact.
Deck looks at me, then at CJ.
“We’ll come too,” he says. “I’m sorry, Eli. But not while Adrian is still out there.”
I exhale through my nose. I know he’s right, so I nod.
“Fine.”
* * *
We all leave together. Finn and I walk along the waterfront first. Neither of us talks at the start, just the sound of footsteps on gravel, wind rolling in off the water, that steady dull rhythm of movement carrying us forward while everything inside me still feels too loud.
Marge sits with me in the silence anyway, like she’s refusing to be left behind.
I imagine her here, walking this same path.
The same wind against her face, the same view of the water stretching out like it never ends.
Someone beside her, her husband maybe, laughing at something small that only makes sense between them.
That quiet kind of happiness that doesn’t announce itself; it just exists, steady and sure, like it belongs here.
People pass us.
The world keeps moving like nothing inside me has just shifted, like nothing has cracked open and rearranged itself. The air is cold when it hits my lungs, sharp in a way that almost stings, clean enough that it feels wrong against everything I’m carrying.
Everything is too calm. Too steady. Like the world around me doesn’t know it should be grieving with me.
And for the first time in days, I actually look around.
Mountains sit in the distance, dark and steady like they’ve always been there and always will be.
Trees move with the wind like they know exactly how to survive it without thinking.
Water breaks against the shore in that soft, endless rhythm that doesn’t care who’s watching.
Everything Marge must have loved about this place.
Everything she trusted enough to send me here for.
I realize CJ and Deck are back a little, giving space but never leaving. Close enough that I don’t have to look far to find them.
That matters more than I want it to.
Finn walks beside me without pressure. Hands in his pockets. Matching my pace without comment. Letting me slow down when I need to. Letting me stop when I can’t move for a second.
“Sorry,” I murmur eventually.
He glances at me. “For what?”
“For earlier.”
He snorts immediately. “If you’re apologizing for being quiet, El, we’re going to be here all day, and I’ve got plans.”
A small sound escapes me.
“See?” he says, pointing at me like he’s won something. “Progress.”
It’s weak. But it’s real, and he bumps my shoulder lightly and keeps walking.
“She didn’t die alone,” I say quietly.
Finn’s tone softens instantly.
“No, honey.” He stops and looks at me with a soft smile. “She didn’t.”
My shoulders drop a fraction.
I look back behind Finn. CJ and Deck are there, just far enough to give me air. CJ is watching me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he blinks wrong. I give him a small smile.
Then his phone comes out.
A second later, mine vibrates.
You okay?
I stare at it, then type back.
Yeah.
I put it away as we keep walking. The wind picks up near the bend in the path, cutting in harder now, and I pull my jacket tighter against it. Finn adjusts his pace without even thinking about it, his body has already learned mine.
“Back for dinner?” he asks lightly.
I nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We turn back.
* * *
And that’s when everything changes.
It happens before my brain can catch up. Before I’ve even properly seen it.
Cold. Sharp. Immediate.
Finn stiffens beside me.
An SUV pulls up too close, too fast. The tires bite into the asphalt, stopping like it doesn’t care about physics or safety or any human around. The door opens, and a man steps out, his gun already raised.
Everything in me goes cold in an instant. Not panic yet, but something much worse: that suspended second where the world refuses to finish forming.
Finn shifts beside me, just half a breath of movement, and I feel it. I feel him register it at the exact moment I do.
This isn’t a mistake or random. This is intent. My body grieves as I realize what this is. The world narrows to a single brutal truth: He found me.
“Get in.”
The voice cuts through the wind like it doesn’t belong here. My body reacts before my mind does. A step back. Then another. Finn does the same. We are synchronized without speaking.
And then it all fractures.
Rough hands grab us from behind.
“CJ!” I don’t even know if I say it or scream it.
We fight instantly. On instinct, not thought. Elbows, twisting, feet kicking backward into whatever I can reach, breath ripping in and out like my body is trying to outrun what’s already happening.
Finn’s beside me, struggling too, swearing, refusing, refusing, refusing.
But there are more of them than there should be. They are too strong, too coordinated. Like this was already decided long before we ever saw the SUV.
“CJ!” I scream into the air, into the space where I know he should be.
Something crashes behind me. Someone grabs my jacket hard enough that the fabric rips. I twist, hit, miss, hit again. Nothing lands the way I need it to.
And then I see him.
CJ.
Running to me. Deck running to Finn.
Guns in their hands.
CJ’s face is already breaking apart with a distance he can’t close.
And I understand it in one brutal, sinking moment. He’s not going to make it.
Not in time.
Not to me.
Deck won’t make it to Finn.
“Deck!” Finn shouts at the same time. His voice cracks through mine.
Then I’m dragged forward.
The SUV looms closer like it’s been waiting the whole time, the door sitting open to a cavernous, black interior.
Cold air. Metal pressed against my skin. Movement. Hands everywhere at once.
I fight harder. Something animal in me refuses to accept it. I swing, connect once, feel it land, but it doesn’t change anything. It only delays it.
“Move!”
The shove comes harder now, and I lose my footing for a second.
And that’s the second everything tilts.
Not fear yet, just the realization that this is actually happening.
“Finn!” I scream, turning, trying to see him, reach him, anchor him.
He’s still fighting.
Still refusing.
Still Finn.
Then I lose him in the movement. Bodies shift. Arms lock in. The world becomes pressure and noise and breath I can’t keep steady.
And the last thing I see before everything collapses into chaos is CJ.
Still running.
Still not close enough.
And the look on his face when he knows it.
That he’s losing us.
That he can’t stop it.
That he’s too far.
And something inside me breaks clean and silent at the same time.
Adrian has me.
It’s not a thought. It’s a fact. And the certainty of it hits like ice. Everything inside me folds inward at once.
The door slams, the sound echoing through me like a prison door locking shut.
The SUV lurches forward so violently that Finn and I are thrown to the floor. The air is driven from my lungs as my shoulder slams into the door. Before I can breathe, they’re on us.
Hands. Too many hands.
Voices shout over one another, barking orders I can’t make sense of. The confined space erupts into chaos, bodies crashing together as the vehicle swerves through corners.
Instinct takes over.
I don’t think.
I fight.
I drive an elbow backward and hear someone grunt. My fist connects with something solid before rough hands seize my jacket and drag me sideways. Beside me, Finn is fighting just as hard, refusing to give them anything. Every movement is calculated. Every strike buys us another second.
“Get the fucking cuffs on them!”
The driver shouts from the front as the SUV jerks again. My shoulder crashes into the door again and pain tears through my arm. I ignore it.
I won’t stop.
I can’t.
I have to get back to CJ.
For a few frantic seconds, no one is winning. The back of the SUV becomes a blur of limbs, shouting, and desperate resistance.
Then numbers win.
A body crashes onto my back, forcing the breath from my lungs. My arms are wrenched behind me before I can pull free. Plastic restraints bite into my wrists so tightly my hands immediately begin to tingle.
“Get off me!”
I buck beneath them, twisting, kicking, trying to break loose.
Across from me, Finn is still fighting. Still refusing and still making every one of them earn it. It takes two men to hold him.
One catches a punch square across the face and falls backward, blood running from his mouth.
“You little bastard!”
My heart lurches.
“Finn!”
He tears one arm free for the briefest second and turns his head toward me.
Our eyes meet, just for a heartbeat.
Then another man reaches for the handgun at his waist.
My blood turns to ice.
“No!”
The weapon swings, and the heavy impact echoes through the vehicle. I watch as Finn’s body crumples to the floor.
He doesn’t move.
For one endless second… nothing.
No sound.
No movement.
Just blood beginning to trail down the side of his face, and everything inside me stops.
“Finn!”
Panic consumes me so completely it steals every coherent thought. I fight with everything I have left, throwing my weight against the men holding me, desperate to get to him.
A fist drives into my ribs, forcing the air from my lungs while another hand shoves my face against the floor, the carpet scratching my skin.
I can’t reach him.
I can’t help him.
“Finn!” His name tears out of me, raw enough to hurt.
Then something rough drops over my head.
Darkness.
The world disappears in an instant.
My breathing turns frantic inside the hood as the SUV continues to race away.
But even in the dark, I can still see him.
Finn.
Lying motionless on the floor beside me.
And that image follows me into the darkness.