Chapter 96. Eden Runs Again
Chapter 96. Eden Runs Again
Elijah always imagined the sound of losing his daughter would be loud—a crack, a scream, something sharp enough to split the world in two.
But when it happened, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
He entered the house after meeting with Tom, still gripping the flash drive like a fragile artery of truth, his chest tight with grief and fury. He expected to find Eden on the couch or in her room, headphones on, sketching in her worn-out notebook the way she always did when the world felt too big.
Instead, the house sat in eerie stillness.
Lights off.
Curtains half open.
Her backpack missing from the hook beside the door.
“El Eden?” he called, dropping his keys. “Kiddo?”
Nothing.
A cold rush slid up his spine.
He walked into the kitchen—her cereal bowl from this morning still in the sink, milk dried at the bottom. But the chair was slightly pushed out, not the way she usually left it. Something about the angle felt wrong, like she’d left in a hurry.
“El Eden,” he tried again, voice thinning. “You home?”
He checked her room.
Empty.
The bed was neatly made—a rarity. Her sketchbook was gone. Her jacket missing. The window cracked open.
Then his eyes fell on the folded piece of paper on her pillow.
His knees nearly buckled before he even opened it.
He recognized her handwriting instantly—sharp letters, pressed too hard, the way she always wrote when angry or scared.
He unfolded it with trembling hands.
Dad,
I can’t live in your war.
I can’t breathe here.
Every day feels like something terrible is coming.
It’s not safe.
Not for me.
Not for anyone.
Please don’t try to find me.
I’m sorry.
— Eden
For a full five seconds, Elijah couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Then the panic hit.
“NO—no, no, no—” He clutched the note, stumbling backward as though the words had shoved him. “Eden! Eden!”
He shouted her name down the hallway, out the front door, onto the porch, voice cracking into the night.
“EDEN!”
The wind answered with silence.
He ran back inside, heart beating wildly against his ribs. He grabbed his phone, dialing her number with shaking fingers.
Voicemail.
He tried again.
Voicemail.
Again.
No answer.
“Elijah?” A neighbor from across the street—a woman in her sixties—stepped onto her porch, robe wrapped tight. “Is something wrong?”
“My daughter’s gone,” he said, voice raw. “She left.”
The woman hesitated. “Do you need me to call someone?”
“No,” he snapped.
Then softer: “No. Thank you.”
He shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down until he sat on the floor.
His hands shook so hard the note rustled like a whisper of accusation.
He knew Eden had been unraveling for weeks. The nightmares. The drawings. The USB recordings. The fear she tried to hide behind sarcasm and stubbornness. But he thought he could keep her safe as long as he stayed near. As long as he held the line.
He thought she would stay.
The guilt hit like a punch to the ribs.
She’d been drowning, and he’d been too consumed with the case—Tom, Noah, Matthew, the Cresthavens—to see she was slipping beneath the surface.
He’d been fighting for justice while losing the one thing that mattered most.
He read the note again, every word another slice to the heart.
I can’t live in your war, Dad.
She saw it that way.
A war.
And Elijah realized she wasn’t wrong.
It was a war—one he dragged her into, one he never fully shielded her from. He’d convinced himself he could protect her by being strong, by digging deeper, by exposing every secret and lie in Briar Ridge. But the deeper he dug, the more danger seeped into their lives.
The fire alarm message.
The threats.
Mason’s attack.
The surveillance van.
And now Tom’s arrest.
Eden had been absorbing the fallout of every battle Elijah fought—and he’d been too blind to see the cost.
He stood abruptly and grabbed his coat, mind racing.
Where would she go?
Where did she feel safe?
He searched the house for clues, pacing like a trapped animal. He checked her drawers. Her trash. Her closet. Then her nightstand.
During the chaos, he hadn’t noticed it earlier—the half-torn bus schedule tucked under her lamp. The local county routes circled in black pen. One stop marked three times:
RIVERPOINT BRIDGE.
His pulse spiked.
Eden always retreated there when they lived in Briar Ridge years ago. It was quiet. Secluded. A place she’d once called her “thinking spot.” He doubted she remembered it fondly now—but maybe nostalgia had outweighed fear.
Or maybe she hadn’t been running to a place.
Maybe she’d been running from him.
Elijah grabbed his keys and bolted for the door.
The drive to Riverpoint Bridge was a blur of headlights, winding roads, and prayers he hadn’t said since he was a teenager. The night was cold, the air sharp, fog curling around the edges of the pavement like smoke.
He parked crookedly on the gravel shoulder and sprinted toward the bridge.
“EDEN!” he yelled into the dark. “EDEN, PLEASE!”
His voice echoed off the steel beams.
No answer.
He walked the length of the bridge, breath clouding in the air, heart hammering.
Nothing.
He checked beneath it, sliding down the dirt embankment, shoes slipping in the mud.
Still nothing.
“El Eden…” His voice cracked, softer this time. “Please don’t do this…”
He stood there for what felt like hours, lungs burning, hands numb.
He was starting to lose hope when his phone buzzed.
A text.
From an unknown number.
He opened it with shaking fingers.
She’s safe—for now.
Stop digging or she disappears for good.
Elijah’s entire body froze.
Cold terror shot through him.
Someone had her.
This wasn’t a runaway.
This was a warning.
A threat.
A leash.
He slammed his fist into the bridge railing, rage blinding for a moment.
“YOU TOOK MY DAUGHTER?” he shouted into the darkness. “COME AFTER ME! NOT HER!”
Only the river answered, rushing beneath the bridge, indifferent.
He tried calling the number.
No answer.
He tried tracing it.
The call failed instantly.
A burner.
Of course.
He stood there trembling, the night swallowing him whole. For the first time since returning to Briar Ridge, he felt truly powerless.
His daughter was gone.
Taken.
Because of him.
Because he refused to stop.
And now the message was clear:
Back off, or Eden disappears forever.
His eyes burned, but he refused to cry. Not here. Not now.
He wiped his face, forced himself to breathe, forced his mind to think through the panic.
If they wanted leverage, they wouldn’t kill her.
Not yet.
He had time.
Maybe.
He whispered to the river, “I’m coming for you, kiddo. I’m coming.”
Then he turned and ran back to his car, the note still clenched in his fist.
His war had just become something far worse:
A kidnapping.
A countdown.
A personal hell.
And if Briar Ridge wanted to break Elijah Ward, they’d finally found the one way to do it.