"I'm not unstable," I said quietly. “And it’s grossly unprofessional to speak of any employee like that to an outsider.”
Mother just waved her hand as if it didn’t matter. "But perception is everything. And if certain people are talking..." She let the implication hang in the air.
I felt something inside me crumble. Here I was, fighting to save children from a trafficking ring, and my own mother was more concerned about what her social circle thought than my safety or the children's lives.
"I should go," Mother said, standing and smoothing her skirt. "Think about what I've said, Emily. Your father and I only want what's best for you, and Melanie expects you to call her."
Over my dead body.
I barely knew my sister, as she'd gone to boarding school, and during holidays she wasn't interested in achildseven years younger than her. Not that I hadn't tried, and I had a flash of memory of handing her a birthday card I'd made at school for her. She'd tossed it on the counter and scowled because she'd gotten glitter on her hands. Our only interaction now was when Mom or Dad held her up as an example I should be following.
Mom moved toward the door, then paused, turning back with that particular expression she wore when delivering her most cutting observations.
"Oh, and Emily? Whatever this... situation is that has people talking, I do hope you'll handle it with some discretion. Your father's practice can't afford any scandal, and frankly, neither can you. A woman your age, unmarried, in a job that already raises eyebrows..." She let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
My chest tightened. "What are you implying, Mother?"
"I'm simply saying that when one's professional conduct comes into question, it's wise to be extra careful about one's personal conduct as well." Her smile was arctic. "You know how quickly rumors spread in our circles."
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Whatever Susan had said—or hinted at—had clearly painted me as someonewhose judgment was compromised. And my mother, rather than defending me or showing concern, was already positioning herself to distance the family from any potential fallout. Not one of them had cared about the kidnapping. They'd just made sure I was schooled on what I could or couldn't say. After three days in their house, I'd simply left and gone home.
"I understand perfectly," I said quietly, just wanting her to leave.
"Good. I knew you would." She air-kissed near my cheek again. "Do think about the position at your father's firm. It really would solve so many problems."
After she left, I stood in my empty apartment, feeling more alone than I had in years. The silence pressed in around me, broken only by the muffled sounds of traffic outside. I retrieved Barnaby from the closet, clutching him against my chest as I sank back onto the couch.
I buried my face in Barnaby's soft fur and cried—great, heaving sobs that shook my entire body. I cried for the children I couldn't save, for the trust I'd broken with Dion, for the safety I'd thrown away in a moment of wounded pride.
But mostly, I cried because for the first time in my adult life, I had found someone who made me feel truly safe, truly cared for—and I had driven him away.
Dion
I'd left the dogs with Abby after Walker had taken Emily and spent the rest of the night in the monitoring room at Salvation, checking the external security feeds about every twenty minutes. We had men watching the property because we still didn't know if anyone had been in her apartment. Hell, even if they hadn't there was no way she would have been left unprotected. The camera I'd had Eric install across from Emily's apartmentbuilding showed nothing unusual—just normal comings and goings, including Walker's departure.
"She's still inside," Eric confirmed from his workstation, not looking up from his screens. "No movement detected at any entrance to the building."
I grunted in acknowledgment, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The memory of Emily's words kept replaying in my head:"If you keep me against my will, you're no better than the monsters who took me before."
The comparison had gutted me. After everything I'd done to protect her, to make her feel safe—to have her look at me and see any similarity to the men who'd abducted and terrorized her...
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Gideon observed from the doorway.
I whirled around to face him, my hands clenched into fists. "She's out there alone, Gideon. With a target on her back and no protection. We don’t have ears in there."
"We have three of our guys monitoring both building exits," Gideon replied calmly, stepping into the room. "And we have eyes on her apartment floor."
"What if that's not enough?" I growled, turning back to the monitors. "Rice's people could get lucky. Take her from her apartment just as easily as they tried to take her from that parking lot."
Gideon moved to stand beside me, his expression thoughtful as he studied the feeds. "You want to talk about what really happened back there?"
"She made her position clear," I said through gritted teeth. "She doesn't want my help."
"Bullshit." Gideon's blunt assessment made me look at him in surprise. "A terrified woman lashed out when she felt cornered. That's what happened."
I shook my head. "You didn't see her face when she said it. She meant every word."
"Did she?" Gideon asked. "Because from what Walker told me, she was clutching that bear from your playroom when she left. Doesn't sound like someone who meant what she said."
