Chapter 105
Emily's POV
8:35 PM. No message from Lena.
I called her phone. Straight to voicemail.
Called again. Same.
Something was very, very wrong.
I grabbed my coat and ran.
Harbor Café was seven blocks away. I covered it in five minutes, lungs burning.
"A woman in a dark suit," I gasped at the barista. "With another woman, about an hour ago—"
"Oh yeah, they left together. The one in the suit looked sick or something. Her friend helped her out."
"Which direction?"
He pointed. "Toward Sterling Hotel, I think."
I was already moving.
The hotel front desk was manned by a young clerk who looked supremely uninterested in my panic.
"I need to find my friend. She's in danger. Please—"
"Ma'am, I can't give out guest information—"
"Then check your security footage! Two women, one practically carrying the other, maybe forty minutes ago!"
He hesitated, then picked up the phone. A minute later, a manager appeared—middle-aged woman in a crisp suit, professional smile firmly in place.
"I understand your concern, but we have strict privacy policies—"
"Privacy policies?" My voice cracked. "My friend was drugged! She could be dying up there right now!"
"I'm very sorry, but without proper authorization—"
Something in me snapped. "Fine. Who's your boss? Who owns this hotel? Because when my friend ends up in the hospital—or worse—and this becomes a police matter, do you really think your privacy policies will protect your jobs? You think your boss will take the blame while you two just followed protocol?"
The manager's professional mask slipped. She exchanged a glance with the clerk.
"The owner is... Mr. Reynolds. Rowan Reynolds."
Everything stopped.
Rowan's hotel.
Which meant he could access everything. Security footage, room numbers, master keys.
Which meant Lena had a chance.
"Show me the footage," I said, already pulling out my phone. "Now."
The manager led me to a back office, pulled up security cameras with shaking hands.
There. Nora, supporting a barely-conscious Lena into the elevator.
"Twelfth floor," the manager confirmed, fingers flying across the keyboard. "East elevator bank. They went to... room 1208."
I was already calling Rowan.
He answered on the first ring. "Emily?"
"LENA'S IN TROUBLE!" The words tumbled out. "Sterling Hotel—your hotel—room 1208, twelfth floor. Nora drugged her, I saw them on security footage—"
"I'm on my way. Don't hang up." His voice was pure ice and steel. "How long ago?"
"Forty minutes—maybe more—"
"I'm ten minutes out. Get a keycard to that room. I'm coming in through the executive entrance."
I heard him shouting orders in the background, a car door slamming, engine roaring.
"Emily." His voice cut through my panic. "Put the manager on."
I shoved the phone at the woman.
She took it with trembling hands. "Mr. Reynolds, I—yes, sir. Immediately, sir. Yes, sir."
She hung up and turned to the clerk. "Code the master key for 1208. Get security up there now."
The clerk's fingers fumbled with the key encoder. It felt like an eternity but was probably fifteen seconds.
He held out the keycard. "Here—"
I snatched it from his hand and ran.
The elevator. Not the stairs—twelve floors would take too long.
I punched the button repeatedly, heart hammering. The doors finally opened.
Empty, thank God.
I hit "12" and watched the numbers climb with agonizing slowness. 3... 4... 5...
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please—
The doors opened on the twelfth floor.
I sprinted down the hallway, counting room numbers. 1204... 1206...
1208.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the keycard. I swiped it once—red light. Again—green.
The door opened.
Nora stood just inside, mascara streaked down her cheeks, frozen in the act of turning toward the sound.
"Where is she?" I shoved past her.
Lena lay on the bed, jacket open, face deathly pale.
"Oh God. Oh God, Lena—"
I knelt beside her, checked her pulse. Weak but steady. Her skin was cold.
"What did you give her? WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?"
Nora just sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."
I pulled out my phone again, dialed 911 with shaking fingers.
"Ambulance. Sterling Hotel, room 1208. Drug overdose."
Nora sank to the floor. "I'm sorry," she kept repeating. "I'm sorry."
I wanted to scream at her, to hurt her the way she'd hurt Lena. But Lena needed me more than my rage did.
I smoothed the hair back from her face. "Stay with me," I whispered. "Just stay with me."
Footsteps thundered in the hallway.
The door burst open.
Rowan stood there, breathing hard, taking in the scene with a single devastating glance.
His eyes found Lena. Everything else—me, Nora, the room—ceased to exist.
"Lena."
He crossed to the bed in three strides, gathered her carefully into his arms.
"What happened?" His voice was deadly quiet.
"Drugged," I managed. "Ambulance is coming."
His gaze shifted to Nora. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"You."
Nora couldn't even look at him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Paramedics arrived. They checked Lena's vitals, loaded her onto a stretcher.
"Sir, you'll need to—"
"I'm riding with her." Not a request. A statement of fact.
He looked back at me. "Come with us."
Police officers filed in. Secured the scene. One of them started reading Nora her rights.
As they wheeled Lena past, I saw Nora's face—blank with shock and regret.
She'd destroyed herself trying to destroy Lena.
And in the end, she'd saved her instead.