Only me.
His eyes locked onto the bruising fingerprints already darkening across my throat, and something terrifying crossed his face.
“Henry—”
He reached me in three strides.
His hands landed on my face so fast they almost hurt, scanning frantically over my throat, my jaw, my eyes like he was checking for damage while trying not to come apart at the seams himself.
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded.
I grabbed his wrists immediately.
“Don’t,” I choked out.
Because I saw it.
The way his body had already angled toward Otto. The way violence sat just beneath his skin waiting for permission.
I threw myself against him before he could move.
“He admitted it,” I gasped against his chest. “Henry, he admitted he took Abel.”
Behind us, Otto let out a rough laugh.
“I admitted no such thing.”
I spun toward him so fast Henry’s grip tightened instinctively around my waist. “You lying piece of shit?—”
“It’ll be difficult to prove,” Otto continued calmly, though his voice sounded tighter now. Colder. “Especially considering your emotional state.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
SSA Chen stepped forward at last, gloves snapping sharply against her wrists as she pulled folded paperwork from inside her coat.
“Otto Keller,” she said evenly. “Or William Kellerman, depending on which decade we’re pretending this is. You’re under arrest for identity fraud, financial crimes, falsifying federal documentation, and obstruction of an ongoing trafficking investigation.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Otto actually looked unsettled.
One of the agents moved in immediately, wrenching his arms behind his back while cuffs snapped closed with a metallic click.
“You have the right to remain silent?—”
“This is absurd,” Randolph snapped suddenly. “You can’t arrest someone based on speculation.”
SSA Chen turned toward him slowly and smiled.
It wasn’t warm.
“Actually,” she said, “the warrant to search Mr. Keller’s residence gave us quite a bit more than speculation.”
My pulse stumbled.
Chen glanced toward Otto while one of the agents pushed him toward the wall.
“We found several encrypted drives,” she continued. “Photographs. Financial transfers. Names.” Her gaze sharpened. “And records connecting him to Ashford Academy dating back nearly twenty years.”
Randolph’s face drained.
