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He wants to know if there’s a gun. A threat.
A hostage demand.
I clear my throat. “Yes. I wanted to call you so you wouldn’t—”
“I’m going to worry until the second I find you,” Leo says. “I’m sorry, sister mine. That’s how it fucking goes.” He’s trying to be terse, but he’s so scared that I can feel him gripping the edge of some nearby window ledge or furniture. I can feel him trying not to lose his shit completely.
“I have to go. Okay?”
“No,” he says. “Don’t hang up. Daphne.”
“I’m—I’m still here.” Tears stream down my face. The sobs will be next, and I can’t let him hear that.
“How much money do they want?”
I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “It’s really not like that.”
“It is like that. There’s a price, and I’ll pay it.” Leo’s being precise with his words now, probably on the off-chance that my kidnapper is leaning in close to hear what he’s saying. “Whatever it is. Get them to name the price. There won’t be any delay.”
And I know, with all my heart, that he means it. That he would sell parts of his company to leverage the money, whatever the amount. That probably he already has so that I won’t have to wait. I grit my teeth to hold in the first sob. That one gets out and it’s game over.
I just—
I can’t do this. It’s painful. It hurts, to be loved like this. It hurts to think I took it for granted before. It hurts to think that there’s no way through this that doesn’t hurt even more. For Emerson. For me. For my brother. I should have thought about this before I made the call.
“I’m going to hang up now,” I say.
“No, Daphne, for the love of God—”
“I really have to go. I love you. I’m okay.”
“Daphne.”
“Yeah?”
“Are they forcing you?”
“No.” A sob escapes. Damn it. “I just have to go. Please don’t worry.”
“I’ll pay it,” he says. “I don’t care how much it is. I love you, Daph. Don’t hang up. Another minute. Please. Daphne—”
I end the call.
No more floodgates now. No gates at all. Nothing to keep the sobs inside.
My tears are hot and relentless, clenching my chest and making my jaw hurt. It all hits me at once. How overwhelming this has been. How I failed to escape. How I almost died. How Emerson saved me. How I didn’t really want to go, in the end, and how fucked up is that? How wrong is that? This is hurting my family more than I ever thought possible, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I cover my eyes with my hand, dropping the phone in the process, and Emerson is there the next second. He puts his arms around me without a word and holds me while the sobs tumble out of me, crashing on the shore. He’s gentle about it, shushing me, murmuring soft things to me in such a genuine way that it makes me cry harder.
I don’t think it’s lost on either of us that he’s the one who did this.
