Chapter 168
Emily's POV
I was standing right behind Alex when he ended the call, close enough that I'd heard the low murmur of his voice but not the actual words. He must have sensed me there because he turned around, slipping his phone into his pocket, and his expression shifted from whatever hard, controlled thing it had been a moment ago into something softer.
"You're awake," he said, reaching out to brush his fingers along my arm.
"It's light out," I tilted my head slightly, curious but not particularly concerned. "Who was that?"
"Just a work call," he said easily, his tone casual and dismissive in a way that suggested it wasn't worth discussing. "Nothing important."
I studied his face, something about the explanation not quite adding up in my sleep-fogged brain. Business calls at seven in the morning weren't completely unheard of, but they also weren't normal, and there was something in the set of his shoulders—something careful and deliberate—that made me think this wasn't just about suppliers. But I decided not to push. If it had been something he wanted to talk about, he would have brought it up. "Okay. You want coffee?"
"Yeah." His hand slid down to catch mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "But first, there's something I need to tell you. Good news."
The shift in his tone made me focus immediately, the last traces of sleep-fogged curiosity giving way to alert attention. "What kind of good news?"
Alex's thumb brushed over my knuckles, grounding and deliberate. "Your father's been re-arrested. He's back in custody as of about three hours ago."
I stared at him, the words registering in my ears but not quite making it to the part of my brain that processed meaning. Re-arrested. Back in custody. I blinked once, then twice, my mouth opening but no sound coming out.
"The escape attempt is going to add years to his sentence—probably decades, given his prior record." Alex continued, his gaze steady on mine. "He's not getting out again, Emily. Not in any timeline that matters to you."
The words finally clicked into place, rearranging themselves in my head until they made sense, and I felt something bright and electric and almost painful unfurl in my chest. Not quite relief. Not quite joy. Something bigger than both, something that felt like a door I'd been pushing against my entire life suddenly swinging open.
"Wait," I said, my voice coming out hoarse and uncertain. "They caught him? The police have been looking for weeks and couldn't find him. How did they—" I stopped, my eyes widening as understanding started to dawn. My gaze snapped to his face, searching. "Was it you? Did you—"
"Not just me." A hint of something that might have been pride flickered across Alex's expression. "Ethan's fans, mostly. He put out a call on social media asking people to keep an eye out and report any sightings. Turns out when you have a few million followers spread across the country, you've got a surveillance network that makes the FBI look understaffed."
I opened my mouth to respond and found I couldn't make any words come out. My throat had closed up, pressure building behind my eyes so fast I didn't have time to brace for it. Ethan's fans. Strangers scattered across the country who didn't know me, who had no reason to care, who'd decided to help anyway because someone they admired had asked them to. My father—the man who'd terrified me for most of my life—caught and locked up again because a network of people I'd never met had paid attention.
The first sob tore out of me before I could stop it, harsh and ragged and completely beyond my control. Then another, and another, until I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath, my whole body shaking with the force of it. Relief and disbelief and joy and something that felt almost like grief for all the years I'd spent being afraid—it all came crashing down at once and I couldn't hold any of it back.
Alex pulled me into his arms immediately, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head while the other wrapped around my waist. "Hey. It's okay. You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore."
I tried to say something—thank you, maybe, or I can't believe it, or just anything that would make sense—but all that came out were more sobs, messy and loud and completely humiliating. I buried my face against his shoulder, clinging to his shirt with both hands like he was the only solid thing in the world, and let myself completely fall apart.
I heard footsteps in the hallway—quick and purposeful—and then Ethan's voice, rough with sleep and edged with sudden concern. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Alex said quietly, his hand still moving in slow, steady circles on my back. "I told her about her father. She's just processing."
A second later I felt Ethan's arms wrap around me from behind, his chest pressing warm and solid against my back as he folded himself around both of us. "We got him, Em," he murmured against my hair, his voice low and fierce with satisfaction. "He's locked up. He's done. You're free."
The word—free—hit me like a physical blow and I sobbed harder, my breath hitching in my throat as I tried and failed to pull myself together. Ethan's grip tightened in response, like he could physically hold me in one piece while I came apart, and I felt his lips press against the top of my head in a kiss that was as much reassurance as affection.
More footsteps—lighter this time—and then Mason's voice, soft and worried. "What happened? Is she hurt?"
"She's okay," Alex said quietly. "Just overwhelmed."