He just drove. Calm. Focused. Like the war hadn’t started yet.
When we pulled up to my apartment, I didn’t want to go inside.
Not because of the space.
But because of what was missing.
Remi.
Her coat wasn’t on the hook. Her mug wasn’t in the sink. There wasn’t a blanket tossed on the couch or a playlist humming low in the background. The air felt hollow. Like grief lived here now.
Jack followed me in and locked the door behind him.
I collapsed onto the couch and pressed my fingers to my temples.
“She didn’t even hesitate,” I whispered.
Jack sat across from me. “Because she already decided what she was willing to give.”
“She shouldn’t have to give anything,” I snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at me like he’d already decided something. “She’s going to be walked out of that precinct tomorrow morning and loaded into a transport van for county lockup.”
I flinched. “I know.”
Jack’s voice dropped. “And if Erin wants a scene?”
He waited.
I looked up.
Jack’s grin was small, dangerous. “Then we give her one.”
I stared. “What do you mean?”
He leaned across the space between us, voice low. Steady. Calculated.
And he told me.
By the time he pulled back, my eyes were wide, and my heart was racing.
“That could actually work,” I said.
He nodded. “It will. But I need two things.”
“Anything.”
“One, I need to call the DA in the city. My boss. I need permission to come back and take over Remi’s defence personally. That’s not just a phone call. That’s political. But I’m going to do it.”
I swallowed, already tearing up again.
“And two,” he said, “I need you to light the damn match.”
I blinked.
“Call everyone you know,” he said. “Get them to the precinct. Neighbours, patients, supporters, council members, shelter representatives, volunteers, past clients, and the press...everyone.I want bodies on that street. I want cameras. Signs. Fury. Love. I want Erin to walk out tomorrow morning thinking she’s won, and I want her to be swallowed whole by the truth.”
I nodded.
