25. Emily
Emily
My eyes are glued to the screen of my phone, my thumb hovering over an old picture of Henry that I pulled from an article online.
The grainy image barely captures him—the sharp cut of his jaw, the unreadable expression in his eyes.
It’s a military photo, from years ago, when he was still deployed. Before he came home. Before me.
Now he’s leaving.
My stomach knots, but I don’t let myself dwell on it.
Across the small living room, my father watches me in silence. Richard Carter. The man who shaped my childhood in all the worst ways. His presence is an unwanted shadow, dark and unshakable.
I arrived to find him waiting at the door, and he’d asked if he could just come in and finish the conversation we were having the other night, but so far, he’s said nothing.
“Are you okay?” he finally asks.
I laugh, short and humorless. “Are you really asking me that?”
He exhales, shifting in his seat. “I just—”
“What are you doing here?” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended.
His gaze flickers downward. “I wanted to talk.”
I cross my arms. “About what?”
His lips part like he’s about to say something meaningful, something that might make up for all the lost years. But I already know nothing he says can fix the past.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally, the words falling heavy in the quiet room.
I stare at him, my pulse quickening.
“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His jaw tightens. “For everything. For what happened with your mother. For the way things ended. It was a mistake, Emily. I lost control, and I’ve paid for it every day since.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You paid for it? You?”
Anger coils inside me, sharp and suffocating. “I watched you tear each other apart. I hid behind doors while you screamed at each other. I had to fend for myself because neither of you were capable of being adults. And now, after fifteen years, you show up and expect—what? That I’ll forgive you?”
His expression tightens, his fingers flexing on his knee. “I don’t expect anything,” he says quietly. “I just wanted you to know that if you ever need me…”
“I won’t.” The words come out flat, merciless.
Pain flashes across his face, but I don’t let it soften me.
A heavy silence stretches between us before I finally ask, “What are you even doing here? What’s your plan?”
He runs a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know.”
I shake my head, disgust curling in my stomach. “Why were you watching me? Why not come forward when you first saw me?”
He hesitates before answering. “I didn’t know you were here at first. I came to sneak into my mother’s house—take a few things I thought might help me start over. And then I saw you. I recognized you immediately. You look just like her.”
My throat tightens, but I don’t respond.
Instead, I ask, “Do you need money?”
His expression doesn’t change, but his silence is enough.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Of course you do.”
“I deserve a piece of my mother’s inheritance,” he mutters.
I exhale sharply. “You can have the house. I don’t care. I’m leaving soon anyway.”
A knock at the door interrupts us.
Not a knock.
A bang.
I freeze, my pulse jumping. The knock is heavy, forceful—nothing like Henry’s.
My father tenses, glancing at the door. “Who’s that?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I grip my phone tightly in one hand and move toward the door, pressing my ear to the wood.
“Emily?” A familiar voice calls out from the other side.
Dane.
My stomach churns.
I glance at my father. “Stay inside,” I whisper. “I don’t want anyone to see you.”
His brow furrows, but he doesn’t argue.
I unlock the door and pull it open just enough to see Dane standing there, his expression unreadable. The night air is thick with tension.
“You alone?” he asks, eyes scanning past me.
I frown. “Why?”
He shifts slightly, stepping closer. “I came to talk.”
I tighten my grip on the door. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Dane’s face hardens. “I think there is.”
His voice has changed—gone is the smooth, charismatic charm he always carried like a shield. In its place is something sharper. Colder.
I force myself to stand taller. “Whatever you want to say, you can say it here.”
Dane exhales, his hands resting in his pockets. “Come back to New York with me.”
My breath catches, but I quickly shake my head. “No.”
His expression darkens. “I wasn’t asking, Emily.”
Fear slithers up my spine. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Dane’s jaw clenches. “Don’t make me use force.”
A shiver runs through me. I’ve never seen this side of him before—the casual cruelty in his voice. It sends a wave of nausea through me.
“You’re not this person,” I whisper. “You hate violent men.”
He laughs, low and taunting. “It’s easy to mock violence when you don’t have to use it. But sometimes, you need to show people who’s in control.”
My stomach churns. “You set that fire, didn’t you?”
He tilts his head. “Not the only one.”
Movement in the shadows catches my eye.
Two men step out of the darkness.
I recognize the bald one from the cafe earlier.
Panic claws at my chest.
I try to slam the door shut, but Dane shoves it open, and the men grab me.
I fight. I kick, claw, scream—anything to get free.
Dane steps closer, voice like ice. “You should’ve stayed in Manhattan.”
Desperation kicks in. My phone—my only chance.
With a final burst of strength, I manage to flick open my speed dial and press Henry’s number before throwing the phone back into the house.
I pray. I pray Henry picks up. I pray my father does something.
The bald man grips me tighter, lifting me off the ground as I thrash, carrying me to the waiting car, where they dumped me. The second man ties my hands as Dane climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car.
The ropes bite into my wrists. Every jolt of the car sends sharp pain up my arms where my skin has already been rubbed raw from my struggles. My breath comes in sharp bursts through my nose, my mouth stuffed with a gag so tight it makes my jaw ache.
Outside the car window, the streets of Harmony Springs blur past in streaks of dim streetlights and darkened storefronts. The town looks the same as it always does—quiet, unsuspecting—but I know better.
I know I might never see it again.
Fear is a living, breathing thing inside me, twisting its way up my throat and choking me. I fight against it, try to keep my mind steady. Henry will come for me.
He has to.
The car takes a sharp turn, throwing me against the door. A muffled whimper escapes me, and from the front seat, Dane chuckles.
“Hope you’re comfortable back there, sweetheart,” he sneers. “Wouldn’t want you bruised before the big finale.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of his voice.
Minutes stretch into an eternity before the car slows, the tires crunching over gravel. My heart pounds wildly as I look out the window. Thick trees loom around us, their towering forms swallowing what little moonlight seeps through the clouds.
The woods.
Not good.
The engine cuts off, and for a split second, everything is still. Then doors slam, and footsteps approach. Hands grip me roughly, yanking me out of the car, and I stumble, my bound ankles giving out beneath me.
“Goddamn it, get her up,” Dane snaps.
Someone grabs me by the arm and hauls me up, but I twist, kicking out with as much force as I can muster. My foot connects with a shin, and there’s a grunt of pain.
It earns me a hard backhand to the face.
Pain explodes across my cheek, the impact sending my head snapping to the side. Stars dance across my vision.
Dane grips my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His features are sharp under the moonlight, his blue eyes gleaming with something dark and manic.
“You’re not making this easy, Emily,” he murmurs, almost amused. “But I always did like a challenge.”
He nods toward the cabin just ahead, and the men haul me forward.
The old wooden structure looms, its windows boarded up, its porch sagging under years of neglect. My gut clenches.
Inside, the air is thick with dust and the lingering scent of stale alcohol. A single lamp flickers dimly in the corner, casting long, menacing shadows against the cracked wooden walls.
The men shove me into a chair, securing my wrists and ankles to the armrests and legs. The bindings are tight, too tight, cutting off circulation.
I struggle, my breath ragged, but Dane merely chuckles as he dismisses the two men. “Go keep watch,” he orders. “I’ll handle things from here.”
The door creaks shut behind them.
Silence settles, thick and suffocating.
Dane crouches in front of me, eyes gleaming as he reaches forward and slowly unties the gag from my mouth. I gasp for air, my lungs burning.
The moment his fingers loosen, I strike.
I lunge forward and sink my teeth into his hand.
Dane lets out a snarl of pain and backhands me again, his fingers leaving a burning sting across my already bruised cheek.
“Bitch,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand.
I smile through the pain, spitting out the taste of his skin. “What’s wrong, Dane?” I taunt, my voice hoarse. “Not so fun when someone fights back?”
His expression darkens, and he grips my chin, squeezing hard. “You think this is funny?” His voice is eerily calm. “Do you even know why you’re here?”
I glare at him, defiant despite the fear twisting my insides. “Because you’re a pathetic coward who can’t handle rejection.”
Dane laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. He shakes his head. “God, you really are something, aren’t you?” His grip tightens. “But no. This isn’t about you running away from me. This is about you screwing up my entire goddamn plan.”
I frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He releases my face and paces the small room, his movements agitated. “You always thought you were smarter than everyone else. Always so fucking righteous.” He spins on me suddenly, eyes blazing. “But you had no idea what was happening right under your nose, did you?”
I swallow hard. “Explain it to me, then.”
Dane smirks. “I was with the Black Talons.”
My blood runs cold.
He watches me carefully, reveling in my reaction. “See, Emily, while you were busy playing doctor, I was playing a much bigger game.”
My stomach clenches. “What did you do?”
“I needed money?”
“You what? You’re one of the best paid doctors in the city.”
“Yeah, but I gamble,” Dane sighs dramatically. “I had debts. Big debts at the Black Talon Casino. The kind that doesn't just go away.” His expression turns smug. “So, I got creative.”
I shake my head, my mind racing. “You worked for them.”
His grin widens. “Bingo.”
I struggle against the ropes, panic rising. “You were what? Their in-house doctor?”
“For a while, yeah. But do you really think I’d work for those animals forever?” He scoffs. “I was done taking orders. So, I set something else up. Convinced one of their main operators to copy a file for me.”
My pulse pounds. “No, you didn’t?”
He shrugs. “He’s just an idiot. He had something I wanted—proof of their operations. He changed his mind about giving it to me, so I tipped them off, let them take care of him.” He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. “And guess what, Emily? That guy? He came through your hospital.”
Realization crashes over me like ice water.
The patient—the one who died after being rushed in. The one I operated on.
“That was you.” My voice shakes. “You set him up to be shot.”
“And to be brought to your hospital where I work as a consultant,” Dane smirks. “I took the flash drive. The Black Talons thought he had it, but I was always one step ahead.”
My stomach churns. “So why am I here?”
Dane clicks his tongue. “Because, darling, the Talons think you took it from him. And now with their leaders behind bars, every low-life in the gang is scrambling to find it.”
He shrugs, almost amused. “If you disappear, they’ll assume the flash drive disappeared with you. That buys me time to find the highest bidder and sell it off before they figure out the truth.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
He grins. “No, I’m just smart.”
I swallow hard. “You really think you’re going to get away with this?”
His grin falters for a fraction of a second before he masks it with arrogance. “Henry Walker won’t be a problem for much longer. The cops will assume the Talon goons outside killed you. And when Henry finds them, well…” He chuckles darkly. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”
Rage boils inside me.
“You won’t get away with this,” I hiss.
Dane leans down until his face is inches from mine. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I already have.”
My mouth opens to scream, hoping the men outside will hear me, but Dane’s hand whips across my face, cutting off my cry. Before I can react, he forces the gag back into my mouth, knotting it tightly.
Tears blur my vision.
I feel my hope slipping. No. Not yet. I think of Henry.
Come for me.
I close my eyes and pray.