Chapter Ten
1977 Words
We ducked into an abandoned parking garage, catching our breath.
William leaned against the concrete wall, exhaling sharply. He was still bleeding.
“We need to keep moving,” I said, scanning the dimly lit space.
But William wasn’t listening.
His jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists. Something was wrong.
I stepped closer. “William”
His phone buzzed.
He stared at the screen. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Then, without a word, he answered.
“Where are you?” A deep, commanding voice echoed through the speaker. Edward Carter.
I stiffened.
William’s father.
“Don’t play games with me, William,” Edward continued. “I know what you’ve been doing. Helping that girl. Digging into things that don’t concern you.”
William’s grip on the phone tightened. “It concerns me when you’re protecting murderers.”
Silence between, then a quiet cold and dangerous chuckle.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Edward said. “Walk away before it’s too late.”
I saw the flicker of conflict in William’s eyes. This wasn’t just a warning. It was a promise.
But when he spoke, his voice was steel. “I’m not walking away.”
Edward sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Then the call disconnected.
William exhaled sharply, looking at me. “We need to move. Now.”
Something in his voice sent a chill through me.
His father wasn’t bluffing.
And now, we weren’t just running from Bernard, we were running from the Carters, too.
We didn’t stop moving.
The weight of Edward Carter’s warning hung between us like a death sentence.
William was silent. Too silent.
I knew what he was thinking.
His father wasn’t bluffing.
And now, we weren’t just up against Bernard. We were at war with one of the most powerful families in the country.
We finally stopped at a rundown motel on the outskirts of town.
The room was small, barely furnished, but it was safe, for now.
William sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulder, his shirt still damp with blood.
I grabbed the first-aid kit and knelt in front of him. A Déjà vu struck
“This is becoming a habit,” I muttered, focusing on cleaning his wound.
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk.
“Emerald I love you” His voice was raw. Low.
I looked up. His blue eyes were locked onto mine. Unshaken. Unyielding.
“I meant what I said,” he whispered.
My heart pounded.
“I love you.” He said again this time loud and clear
The words shattered something inside me.
I froze.
“I’ve been fighting it,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I tried to push you away. Tried to tell myself that helping you was about revenge. But it’s not.”
He reached for my hand, his touch warm against my skin.
“This is real,” he murmured. “And it scares the hell out of me.”
I swallowed hard. Because it scared the hell out of me, too.
I should have said something.
But the walls I had built—the ones that had kept me safe for so long were too strong to break.
So instead, I pulled my hand away.
His expression flickered with something almost like pain, but he didn’t force it.
“William…” I whispered.
His lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to say it back.”
I exhaled shakily, my chest tightening. Why did this hurt?
“I just needed you to know,” he added, standing. Putting distance between us.
And even though I had been the one to pull away, I hated the space.
I barely slept.
William’s confession echoed in my mind, a ghost that refused to be ignored.
“I love you.”
I had fought so hard to keep my heart guarded. Love made you weak. Love made you reckless.
Love made you vulnerable.
I had already lost too much.
And yet… the way he had looked at me, the way his voice had cracked with raw honesty—it terrified me more than anything Bernard could do.
Because deep down, in the part of me I refused to acknowledge…
I wanted to believe him.
The next morning, William was distant. Not cold, but different.
He didn’t mention what had happened between us, and I didn’t bring it up.
Instead, we focused on what mattered. Ending this.
I spread out the documents we had stolen from Bernard’s office across the motel bed.
Bank statements. Shell company transfers. Bribes.
Everything we needed to bury him.
William scanned the pages, his jaw tightening. “This is enough to get him arrested.”
I exhaled. “Then we take it to the police.”
He looked at me then, something unreadable in his gaze. “And you think that’ll be enough?”
I hesitated. Because I wasn’t sure.
Bernard had been getting away with this for years. He had connections, power, people in his pocket.
But what choice did we have?
Before I could answer, William’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, then cursed under his breath.
I frowned. “What?”
He hesitated. Then: “My father.”
“Go ahead and answer the call”. I said
I watched as William paced the length of the motel room, his grip tight around his phone.
Then, finally, he answered.
“You’re making a mistake,” Edward Carter’s voice came through, calm and lethal.
William’s jaw clenched. “I’m done listening to you.”
Edward sighed. “No, son. You’re done when I say you are.”
A chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t just a warning.
This was a threat.
“You’ve chosen the wrong side,” Edward continued. “And you’re going to regret it.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, William said something that made my breath hitch.
“Maybe this is the time I don’t want to be your son anymore.”
The call went dead.
He stood there for a long moment, his fists clenched, his breathing sharp.
Then he threw the phone across the room.
It shattered against the wall.
I flinched. Not at the violence of it but at the pain in his eyes.
Because for the first time, I saw it.
William Carter was losing everything for me.
We didn’t talk about it.
Not about his father, not about what he had sacrificed.
Instead, we planned.
We needed to move fast. Get to the authorities before Bernard could cover his tracks.
But as we packed up the evidence, something gnawed at me.
Why did it feel like we were being watched?
Then a noise came from outside the motel.
William’s head snapped up. “Did you hear that?”
I nodded. My pulse pounded.
He grabbed his gun, motioning for me to stay behind him. I didn’t listen.
The night was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
William and I edged toward the motel window, our breaths shallow. Something was out there.
A shadow moved across the parking lot.
Then a car engine roared to life.
Headlights flared, blinding. It was coming straight for us.
“Move!” William grabbed my hand, yanking me away as the glass shattered behind us.
We hit the floor just as the car smashed through the motel’s front entrance.
Dust. Screams. Chaos.
William’s grip on me was tight, his pulse pounding against my skin. We needed to run.
Nowhere to Hide
We slipped out through the back alley, darting between abandoned buildings.
William was breathing hard, his arm still bleeding from last night. He was slowing down.
I pulled him to a stop. “We can’t keep running like this.”
He leaned against the brick wall, jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice.”
I looked at him, really looked at him.
He had lost everything. His father had turned on him. And now, because of me, he was a target.
And still, he was here.
“I never wanted this for you,” I whispered.
His blue eyes locked onto mine. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”
My chest tightened. “William”
He took a shaky breath. “I don’t care what happens next, Emerald. I don’t care if I lose everything. As long as you’re safe.”
The weight of his words crushed me.
Because I wasn’t safe. Neither of us were.
And now, there was no way back.
We needed a new plan.
Bernard wasn’t going to stop. And now, neither was Edward Carter.
We had to go on the offensive.
“We have proof,” I said. “But we need the right person to take it to.”
William exhaled sharply. “Someone outside Bernard’s reach.”
I pulled out my phone. There was one person left to trust.
An old friend of my father’s.
If he was still alive.
Before I could dial, my phone buzzed. Unknown Number.
I hesitated. Then answered.
A deep, chilling voice came through.
“You should have left it alone, Emerald.”
My blood ran cold.
William grabbed the phone, but the line went dead.
I met his gaze, my pulse hammering. This wasn’t over.
It was only just beginning.
The phone call had been a warning.
A final chance to back down before it was too late.
But it was already too late. I wasn’t backing down.
And that meant whoever was watching us… was coming.
We didn’t have time to hesitate.
William and I jumped into the car, peeling away from the shattered remains of the motel.
I clutched my phone tightly, the name I had been searching for finally displayed on my screen.
David Moore. A former federal investigator. A man my father had once trusted.
If he was still alive, he was our last hope.
William glanced at me. “You sure about this guy?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’d rather take my chances with him than wait for Bernard to catch up.”
William’s jaw tightened. “Then let’s find him.”
We had barely been on the road for ten minutes when William’s phone rang.
He hesitated. Then answered.
“William,” Edward Carter’s voice was calm. Too calm. Like a man who had already won.
William’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Don’t call me.”
His father sighed. “Son, you’re making a mistake.”
“I’m fixing your mistakes.”
A pause. Then his father proceeded
“You’re choosing her over your own blood.”
I stiffened.
William’s knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. “I chose the truth.”
His father chuckled softly. “Then you’ll die for it.”
The line went dead.
A heavy silence filled the car.
I exhaled shakily. “He’s going to kill you.”
William’s jaw clenched. “Not if we get to Bernard first.”
We drove through the night, the weight of Edward Carter’s words suffocating.
I found David Moore’s last known address—a cabin in the woods, hidden from the world.
If anyone could help us, it was him.
But when we arrived, the place was abandoned.
William stepped out first, scanning the area. “Are you sure about this?”
I didn’t answer. Because something felt wrong.
I pushed open the cabin door, and froze.
The walls were covered in newspaper clippings.
Photos of my father. Of Bernard. Of me.
Then I heard the click of a gun.
“Who sent you?” a rough voice demanded.
William moved instantly, stepping in front of me, but I grabbed his arm. I knew that voice.
Slowly, I turned.
And standing there, alive when he shouldn’t have been, was David Moore.
- Writer
