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“No, I—”
“Did they touch you?” His voice is rising, breaking, and my gut freezes. I might have underestimated how much this would shake him. Of all things, this is what my brother fears the most. But it didn’t happen the way he thinks it did. Emerson didn’t touch me in any way that I didn’t want.
I can’t stop looking into Emerson’s eyes. He leans against the wall by the door.
“No, Leo.” My own voice trembles, which is not how I meant to sound. “I swear. Nobody touched me.”
There’s a beat of silence. If I were going to give it a shape, it would be jagged. Anguished. “You’re not alone.”
My next breath feels like I’m taking it through a straw. This is the nightmare scenario for him. A waking nightmare.
“You don’t have to say anything that will put you in danger,” Leo says, his tone clearing. I’d be scared if I were anyone else. “I’ll understand you. Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Are you hurt right now? Did they hurt you?”
They. He’s worried about a conspiracy. The Constantines, maybe. More than one person. There’s no way to tell him that it’s just Emerson without putting Emerson’s life at risk.
“No.” Tears burn my eyes. “I swear, Leo, I’m not hurt.”
“I can come to you,” he says. “Wherever you are. I can send someone.”
“I just need you to listen to me.” The first tears spill over, and that’s it. I won’t be able to stop them now.
“I can hear you,” he insists. “I can hear every goddamn word.” But I can’t get to you. That’s the part he leaves out. He takes a breath, and I can tell he’s getting a grip. Steeling himself for whatever happens next.
“I’m not hurt. I wanted you to know that I’m okay. I’m safe. I really, really don’t want you to worry.”
“I’m worried,” he says. This is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. He’s out of his mind. “And I don’t think you’re being honest.”
“I am.”
“You’re crying.”
“Yeah.” My voice goes thin and high, and this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. “Because I don’t want you to be like this. I just want you to be okay.”
What I mean is that I don’t want him to lose it because I’m gone. But Leo curses. He’s taken it another way. “Don’t say that,” he says. “Christ. I’ll find you. These motherfuckers—”
“Leo, please.”
“Are you in the city?” he demands, panic threading through his voice. Panic and determination.
“No.”
“Are you close?”
“I think so, but—”
“Is there a window?”
“Yes,” I breathe. He thinks I’m in some basement somewhere. A true hostage. Oh, god. This is worse by the second. “There are lots of windows. It’s a good place. It’s okay, Leo. It’s good here.”
“They’re feeding you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Was this call optional, Daph?”
