Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Gabbi
Gabbi woke up with a dull ache in her chest, the kind that made it hard to breathe, the kind that pressed down on her ribs like a weight she couldn't shake off. The apartment was too quiet, the sheets tangled around her legs, her body stiff and uncomfortably aware of how little sleep she had gotten. The air still carried the remnants of last night, the scent of Bobby’s skin, the heat of his hands on hers, the way he had felt against her.
But none of it mattered now because she couldn’t forget the way it had ended.
His voice echoed in her head, colder than she ever wanted to hear it.
"Don’t think this changes anything."
Gabbi clenched her jaw, forcing herself upright.
She wouldn’t cry. She had no right to cry.
She had let herself get pulled back into his orbit, let herself believe for just a second that they could have something other than pain between them.
Stupid. So damn stupid. She pushed the blankets off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, planting her feet firmly on the wooden floor like that could somehow ground her.
The room felt suffocating, her thoughts circling the drain of old wounds and fresh scars.
She needed to work. Needed to do something other than sit here drowning in things she couldn’t change.
She walked to her desk, flipping open her laptop, pulling up the file she had built over years—every scrap of information, every lead, every dead end that had brought her nowhere.
The mafia case. The one that never left her, that she refused to let go of, no matter how many times people told her to move on.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the words blurred together, useless, unreadable, because all she could think about was Liam.
Eight years old. He had been just a kid.
Her breath hitched, and before she could stop it, the memory crashed over her, pulling her under, dragging her back to the worst day of her life.
The sun was bright that afternoon, the air thick with the scent of summer—fresh-cut grass, melting ice cream, the sound of children’s laughter ringing through the park.
Liam’s small fingers slipped from hers as he bolted forward, sneakers pounding against the pavement, his excitement contagious.
Gabbi laughed, jogging after him, watching as he ran toward the ice cream stand near the swings, his favorite blue baseball cap bobbing with every step.
“Slow down!” she called, shaking her head.
Liam turned, grinning up at her, his front tooth missing, his brown eyes bright with mischief. “I want chocolate!”
Gabbi rolled her eyes. “You always want chocolate.”
He stuck his tongue out at her before spinning back around, his laughter trailing behind him. She smiled, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, her heart light, carefree. Nothing felt wrong. Nothing felt dangerous.
Bobby had told her not to take Liam out that day.
His voice had been sharp over the phone, frustration laced beneath the concern. "Gabbi, I mean it. Don’t take him anywhere crowded. There have been sightings. People have gone missing. Just stay home."
But she had brushed him off, told him he was being paranoid. This was a public park. It was daylight. What could possibly happen?
The memory of his warning snapped through her like a whip the moment she realized Liam was gone.
One second, he had been there. The next, he wasn’t.
Gabbi’s stomach dropped.
She spun in a full circle, her breath catching. "Liam?" Her voice was too calm, too steady, because she still believed he was just playing, just hiding behind the ice cream stand or crouching behind a bench, waiting to jump out and scare her.
She called again, louder this time. "Liam!"
Nothing.
The sounds of the park blurred together, children running, parents chatting, the distant honk of a car on the street. But none of it mattered, because Liam wasn’t anywhere.
Panic sank its claws into her chest.
She ran.
She checked behind the ice cream stand, rushed to the playground, scanned every inch of the field.
"Liam!" Her voice cracked now, panic bleeding into every syllable.
She grabbed at passing strangers, asking, begging if they had seen a little boy in a blue baseball cap. Every answer was the same. No.
Then she saw it.
Lying on the ground near the sidewalk, partially hidden beneath a park bench.
His cap.
Gabbi’s heart stopped.
Her legs felt like they didn’t belong to her as she stumbled forward, snatching the cap up with shaking fingers. It was small, soft, warm from the sun. She squeezed it so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no?—"
She turned wildly, her voice breaking. "Liam!"
People started noticing. A woman with a stroller paused, concern etched into her face. A man jogging by slowed, his brows furrowing. But no one had seen anything.
Gabbi’s chest caved in.
The police arrived within minutes. Sirens. Flashing lights. The world spinning too fast. Officers asked questions she couldn’t answer, their voices blending together. Where was he standing? What direction was he facing? Did she see anyone suspicious? She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
And then Bobby was there.
She didn’t even see him arrive, but suddenly, he was pushing through the crowd, his eyes scanning frantically until they landed on her. The second he saw the cap in her hands, something inside him broke.
"You—" His voice was hoarse, disbelieving, but then his expression snapped into something else. Rage. Grief. A kind of pain she had never seen before.
He took two steps toward her, his entire body shaking. "I told you."
Gabbi’s breath hitched, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Bobby?—"
"I told you not to take him out!" His voice cracked, raw and jagged. "You didn’t listen, Gabbi! You didn’t listen!"
The words slammed into her, sharp and unforgiving.
She had thought she knew what regret felt like before that moment. She had been wrong.
The last thing she remembered before everything became a blur was the look in Bobby’s eyes.
Pure. Devastation.
Gabbi gasped, her body jerking back to the present, her pulse racing, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. The apartment wasn’t the park. She was alone. But the memory was still burning through her like a fresh wound.
She exhaled shakily and pushed herself up, walking to the window. The city stretched before her, lights flickering, cars moving, life continuing as if nothing had happened. As if Liam hadn’t been stolen from it.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, swallowing down the lump in her throat.
“I’m so sorry, Liam.”
But she knew it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.