Chapter 321 Messages in the Dark

Chapter 321 Messages in the Dark
Emma's POV

I settled into the passenger seat of my car, not quite ready to go upstairs to my empty apartment. The monastery's peace still lingered in my mind, along with the strange sense of closure I'd found seeing Gavin there. My phone buzzed with a text from Rachel. So "Release" huh?

I smiled, typing back: Yes.

Another message from her popped up—a photo of a newborn baby, tiny and wrinkled with a shock of dark hair.

Just delivered this little guy. 8 pounds, 4 ounces of pure cuteness. Mom's been in labor for 19 hours, poor thing.

I stared at the photo, an unexpected wave of longing washing over me. The baby's tiny fingers, the peaceful expression—something stirred deep in my chest. Before I could overthink it, I switched to Blake's contact and typed:

You come back, we make babies.

I hit send, then immediately felt my cheeks flush. Had I really just sent that? I waited, watching the screen for any indication he'd read my message, but nothing changed. No read receipt, no typing indicator.

Rachel, do you think Blake actually gets my messages? I texted back to my friend.

If the man is alive, he's reading them. Probably has some secret spy implant in his eyeball that displays your texts directly onto his retina.

I snorted. That's not how technology works.

How would you know? Blake is YOUR man. Which part of his body are you NOT familiar with?

I was still smiling at Rachel's teasing when I glanced up at my apartment window. A flash of light caught my attention—brief but unmistakable, like someone moving with a flashlight inside. My smile vanished instantly.

Blake wasn't due back. Aiden wouldn't break in. Ryan wouldn't dirty his hands personally.

Someone was in my apartment.

I silently opened my car door and popped the trunk, retrieving the Louisville Slugger I kept there. I approached the building quietly, adrenaline sharpening my senses. Inside the lobby, I pressed against the wall beside the elevator, opting for the emergency stairs instead.

My heart pounded as I climbed, bat gripped tightly. Could it be Blake? Had he returned early? No—Blake wouldn't need to break in, and he certainly wouldn't be careless enough to flash lights around.

I positioned myself in the shadows of the hallway, waiting. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Finally, my apartment door opened and a man I'd never seen before emerged, carrying a small bag.

I didn't hesitate. I swung the bat, striking the back of his knees. He collapsed with a pained cry as I quickly positioned the bat above his head.

"Move and the next swing cracks your skull," I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "I've already called the police."

"Jesus, lady! Take it easy!" he whimpered, face pressed against the carpet.

"Why were you in my apartment?"

"I was paid, okay? Just paid to go in and look for something."

"What were you looking for?"

"I don't know, man! They just said to search everywhere and make a mess."

I pressed the bat harder against his shoulder. "Who hired you?"

"I don't know! It was all through burner phones and cash drops. I never saw a face."

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out some of my jewelry. "Here, take it back. I was just supposed to make it look like a robbery gone wrong."

I maintained pressure with the bat while calling the actual police. Within twenty minutes, the man was in custody, and the building security had been alerted. After giving my statement, I finally entered my apartment.

The sight that greeted me made my heart sink. Every drawer had been pulled out, contents scattered across the floor. The couch cushions had been slashed, picture frames smashed, and clothes strewn everywhere. My carefully organized life had been reduced to chaos.

For someone with my level of organization, the scene was physically painful to look at. I took several deep breaths, fighting back the urge to panic at the disorder. Instead, I snapped a few photos and uploaded one to Instagram, making sure only Ryan and Aiden could see it.

Someone's looking for something. Wonder what it could be?

Ryan's comment appeared almost immediately: Terrible. Need help cleaning up?

I typed back: Didn't know you were the domestic type, Ryan.

For you? I could make an exception. Or I could just make this little problem go away.

I knew exactly what he meant—not helping with cleaning, but dealing with whoever was responsible. Before I could respond, my phone rang. Aiden.

"I heard about the break-in," he said without preamble. "Are you all right?"

"Physically, yes. My apartment, not so much."

"I can send someone to help clean—"

"Let's not pretend, Aiden," I cut him off. "This was either you or Ryan. Which one?"

A pause. "It wasn't me, Emma."

His tone held a note of genuine offense that made me almost believe him. Almost.

"Ryan, then," I concluded.

Aiden didn't confirm or deny, which was confirmation enough. Then he said something that made my heart stop: "Blake will be back within days."

After we hung up, I stood in the middle of my ravaged apartment, processing this information. Blake was coming home. Finally. And Ryan and Aiden were about to have their own dogfight over whatever they thought I had.

I called a cleaning service for an emergency appointment, then began helping sort through the mess myself. My movements were energized by the news of Blake's imminent return. I ordered fresh flowers to be delivered tomorrow, his favorite foods for the refrigerator, and clean sheets for the bed.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. Blake was coming home, and I would be ready.