Chapter 21

\[DAN'S POV\]

I had a gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right.

The master bedroom door was open; that wasn’t how I left it. I paused at the door, flicked the switch, and stood there scanning the room carefully. The sheets were still rumpled from when I’d laid her down, but the indentation where she had been lying was empty. My eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail: the half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand, the blanket slipped to the floor, the faint, warm scent of her perfume clinging to the air.

But there was no Emerald, and a muscle in my jaw twitched. I stepped inside slowly, letting my eyes adjust, letting the weight of the silence sink in. My hand brushed the sheets where she had been. Still warm. She hadn’t been gone long.

My gaze moved to the window, curtains drawn halfway, letting in the dim light of the city. I crossed the room and checked the lock. Secure. No sign of forced entry.

“Emerald?” My voice was low, rough. It felt stupid calling for her in an empty house, but I needed to hear something, anything.

Nothing. I turned back toward the bed, scanning for anything out of place. That’s when I noticed her phone wasn’t there. She never went anywhere without it, not even to the bathroom. Unease twisted in my gut. I walked toward the dresser and noticed something else; her shoes were gone from the corner where she always kicked them off.

“She left,” I muttered under my breath, the words bitter in my mouth. “After everything…”

A memory hit me hard then, her limp body in my arms after Tyson called, her soft groan as I carried her up the stairs. She had been bleeding. She had been terrified. I had seen her cry, really cry, for the first time. And yet she still ran.

The anger started to simmer in my chest, hot and sharp. But it wasn’t the usual rage. It was…mixed with something else I hated admitting to. Fear. I walked to the wardrobe, yanked it open, and checked inside. Nothing but our clothes, untouched. I crouched down, running a hand along the carpet, as if I could find some trace of her decision to leave, a note, a dropped earring, something to make this make sense.

Nothing.

I straightened and raked a hand through my hair, pacing the room. The echo of the hospital clung to me. I could still see her weak smile when I helped her sip water. That had done something to me I couldn’t explain. A flicker of protectiveness. A need to keep her safe, even if she drove me insane every other second.

And now she was gone. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and checked the home security app. Cameras still rolling. I tapped through the feeds: front gate, side garden, kitchen entrance. Nothing unusual.

Except the timestamp from thirty minutes ago. The side camera had caught movement. I leaned closer, watching the grainy footage: Emerald, wearing her dark coat, slipping quietly out the back door, hood up, a small bag clutched in her hand.

“Damn it, Emerald,” I muttered. My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles whitened. She was weak, vulnerable, and still, she thought running was a good idea?

I replayed the clip again, scanning the background. No other figures. At least, none that I could see. But I wasn’t naive enough to think she was safe just because the camera didn’t catch anyone.

My mind immediately went to the shooting. The hospital. Tyson’s apartment. Someone out there had already tried to kill her, and now she was wandering God-knows-where, making herself an easy target.

Anger and fear battled in my chest.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The indent of her body still lingered in the mattress, mocking me. The house felt…wrong, like it was holding its breath.

I let out a slow exhale and forced myself to think. I could call Tyson. Demand if he knew where she was. But if she went to him again… I swallowed hard. The thought of her running to my half-brother’s arms twisted my insides.

I rose and crossed to the bathroom, flipping on the light. Her towel still hung from the rack, slightly damp from her shower earlier. I stared at it longer than I should have, the domestic detail irritating me. She could leave traces of herself everywhere, towels, blankets, perfume, but not herself.

A notification pinged on my phone. I glanced down.

Unknown Number: “You can’t protect her if she keeps running.”

I froze.

The text had no sender ID, just a single line. My heart kicked hard in my chest.

I typed back quickly: Who is this?

No reply.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls closer. I stood there, listening to the faint hum of the city outside and the quiet creak of the old house settling. My hand brushed the nightstand, feeling the empty space where her hand had rested earlier.

I didn’t know if I was angrier at her for leaving or at myself for letting her.

But one thing was sure: whoever sent that message knew more than I did. And if Emerald didn’t come back soon, I’d be forced to tear this city apart to find her, curse or no curse, bloodline or not.

The quiet of the house was shattered by the sudden buzz of the intercom at the front gate.

I froze.

Someone was here.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know if I wanted it to be Emerald…or if I was terrified it was someone else entirely.