Chapter 170 Too Close

Chapter 170 Too Close
"Aaron!"

i screamed my heart already in my stomach.

And there came the savior of the day.

He lunged, hand closing around her wrist at the last possible second. The railing gave way completely, splintering into the rain-soaked void below. Zara dangled over the steep drop, terror etched across her face, body swinging in the downpour.

Aaron grunted, muscles straining as he fought to hold her. Rain lashed through the opening, soaking them both.

For one endless moment, everything hung in frozen silence.

Then Zara looked up at him—really looked, eyes full of regret and pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Aaron’s grip tightened, knuckles white.

Blue lights flashed through the broken windows, painting the rotting walls in erratic pulses. The police had arrived. Very close.

Zara heard them. A sad, weary smile ghosted across her lips. “They’re here.”

Aaron shifted his weight, muscles straining as he gripped her wrist. “We’re getting you up.”

“No.” Her voice was quiet, resigned.

His eyes narrowed. “No?”

She shook her head slowly, rain-soaked hair clinging to her face. “I don’t deserve saving.”

“Zara…”

Her gaze drifted to mine. For the first time in months, hatred was absent. Instead, I saw bone-deep exhaustion, raw regret, and the kind of pain that had hollowed her out for years.

“I spent so much time trying to destroy you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “And all I did was destroy myself.”

Tears carved fresh paths down her cheeks. “I blamed you for everything, Sarah. Dad… Aaron…” Her eyes flicked briefly to Kendrick, sleeping safely in my arms. “The baby.”

Her shoulders crumpled as her voice shattered completely. “But the truth is… I was angry because nobody ever chose me.”

Silence swallowed the room, broken only by the relentless rain hammering the roof. The weight of years—pain, resentment, destruction—hung heavy between us.

“I know saying sorry won’t change anything,” she continued, eyes locking on mine. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Her throat worked. “But I’m sorry.”

The apology landed like a fragile offering amid the ruins. Too late. Yet real.

Police voices echoed from downstairs, sharp and urgent. “Second floor!” “Move!” “They’re up here!”

A strange calm settled over Zara’s features. She looked at Aaron one last time. “I really did love you.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, a flicker of sorrow crossing his face. “I know.”

She offered a faint, broken smile. Her gaze lingered on Kendrick for a heartbeat, soft and aching, before returning to me. “Take care of him.”

My arms tightened instinctively around my son. “I will.”

Footsteps thundered closer. Almost at the door.

Then—a loud crash echoed from the hallway.

We all jerked toward the sound.

Just one second.

That was all she needed.

When I looked back, Zara was gone.

“Aaron!” I cried.

He spun, lunging for the far door. “Zara!”

It slammed shut behind her. By the time Aaron wrenched it open, she had vanished into the shadows of the decaying house.

Police burst into the room seconds later, flashlights cutting through the gloom. “Where is she?”

“She ran!” Aaron snapped, voice tight.

Officers charged after her. Shouts ricocheted through the hallways. Footsteps pounded. Doors slammed. Then… silence. Long, agonizing silence.

Minutes stretched like hours before one officer returned, rain dripping from his uniform. His grim expression said everything.

“We lost her.”

My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “The storm covered her tracks. Multiple exits at the back lead straight into the woods. We searched as far as we could, but she’s gone.”

Aaron cursed under his breath, running a hand through his wet hair.

I stared through the shattered window into the dark forest beyond. Somewhere out there, Zara had disappeared—swallowed by the trees, leaving only her broken apology and the wreckage of the life she’d tried so desperately to reclaim.

As the police continued sweeping the property, I looked down at Kendrick. His tiny body rose and fell steadily against my chest, warm and safe. For the first time in what felt like forever, the terror loosened its grip.

Maybe this was enough. Survival. Not justice. Not perfect closure. Just holding my son while the storm raged on.

Aaron stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on Kendrick’s back. His touch grounded me. Neither of us spoke. We simply stood together in the ruins, clinging to the one thing that had survived the nightmare.

Our son.