LOGINAfter finding out about our child, I’d done exactly as Lincoln suggested.I sat back and let Officer Pennet and Miller take the lead.It’s been two weeks and I’d been told that I should expect an update today.I thought I’d feel something.Anger.Relief.Vindication.Maybe even happiness.But as I sat curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over my legs and listened to Lincoln quietly relay the news he’d gotten from Pennet over the phone, all I felt was…Tired.Not physically.Not even emotionally.Just tired in a way that settled deep into my bones.Rebecca Smithsdale was gone.Blaire would spend the rest of her life behind bars.Alan had left with Jeremy.And somehow, after everything…The world hadn’t stopped turning.People still went to work.Traffic still clogged the roads.The sun still rose every morning.And life—Life simply carried on.I stared down at the mug of warm honey milk resting between my palms.“Jess?”Lincoln’s voice was gentle.Careful.Like he was afraid I
I was halfway through a report when I saw a pair of boots stop at my desk.Not unusual.Nothing in our line of work ever stayed quiet for long.I looked up to find Deputy Castro standing in the doorway.Something about his expression made me put my pen down.“What’s wrong?” I asked. The man was usually unshakeable. He swallowed.“It’s Smithsdale.”I frowned.“What about her?”His eyes shifted.“They found her.”The room fell strangely silent.No ringing phones.No chatter.Nothing.Just those three words hanging in the air like a cutting thread.They found her.For a moment, I simply stared at him.Not because I didn’t understand.Because I did.Immediately.Too immediately.I exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand over my face.“When?”“About twenty minutes ago.”I nodded.Neither of us spoke.There wasn’t much to say.Eventually, Castro cleared his throat.“Medical examiner’s on scene.”I nodded again.“Thank you.”He quietly left.And I sat there.Staring at absolutely nothing.I should
Blaire was a sorry sight.Not that she’d ever admit it.She still carried herself with the same arrogance she’d had the day we arrested her. The same superiority. The same delusion.Most people eventually accepted reality.Blaire fought it tooth and nail.She was still convinced Alan would come back.Still hopeful he’d wake up one day and realize she’d been worth throwing his life away for.Hopeful that he’d change his mind.And he had.Just not in the way she’d wanted.He’d gone from loving her and wanting to build a life together to hating her entirely.I was actually the first to hear about his request for relocation.My Sargent had gotten a kick out of it.Hell, he’d practically shoved the paperwork into my hands with a grin.“Thought you’d appreciate this one, Pennet.”He wasn’t wrong.Miller would’ve loved it too.Though lately, my partner had more important things occupying his time.Namely Olivia.Funny enough, I’d never seen him smile so much.Not after arrests.Not after com
I hated the smell.I hated the food.I hated the fluorescent lights that never seemed to shut off.But most of all—I hated being alone.This wasn’t supposed to happen.None of it.Alan was supposed to leave Jessie.He was supposed to realize that I was the one who understood him.The one who loved him.The one who sacrificed everything.Instead, I was sitting in a cage while that pathetic little victim probably had everyone wrapped around her finger again.Typical Jessie.Things had always come easy for her.The loving father.The perfect life.The sympathy.Even when she cried, people rushed to save her.But me?Nobody had ever saved me.Nobody had ever chosen me.Except Alan.And now even he hadn’t shown his face.Two weeks.Two damn weeks.Not a call.Not a letter.Nothing.The last I’d seen of him was when he’d wrapped his fingers around my neck..I refused to believe that meant anything.He loved me.He had to.After everything we’d done…After everything we’d risked…He couldn’
My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking. Nothing had changed. I didn’t look different. I couldn’t feel anything. Yet somehow, everything had changed. There was a life growing inside me. Mine. Lincoln’s. Ours. A tiny miracle born not from pain, but from love. And despite the tears streaming down my face, a smile found its way there too. Because for the first time in years, when I thought about tomorrow… I wasn’t afraid. I was hopeful. My eyes drifted to Lincoln’s, and I could see tears streaming down his cheeks. He quickly tried to brush them away before inhaling deeply, attempting to regain his composure. “Now we know how to proceed,” he said without hesitation. “We let Officers Miller and Pennet take over, and we take a backseat. It’s time to think about our family.” I nodded silently and rested my head against his chest. The steady rise and fall of his breathing soothed the storm inside me. Just as I slid my arms around his waist, a knock at the door shattered
Acting fearless and brave in the face of uncertainty had become my strong suit.A well-developed tactic I’d developed for my career and have now used relentlessly with the woman I love.I want Jess to feel stability and protection.Even if I don’t feel that myself.I feel her hand tightening around mine as I lead her toward the bathroom where answers await.Truthfully, I’m glad she’s not close enough to hear my heart drumming in my chest.I’m terrified of what this answer might be.I’m scared that it’s not going to be what I want it to.Not because I would love her any less.Not because I would leave.Hell, she’d have to pry me away with a crowbar at this point.But because somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I’d allowed myself to hope.And hope is a dangerous thing.Hope means something can be lost.Hope means putting your heart on the line and praying life doesn’t strike an arrow through it.God knows Jess and I have had enough arrows shot our way.I stop outside the
“Sophia, you need to tell me what’s going on. Did something happen to Olivia?” My voice trembled, though I fought to keep it steady. My heart thudded in my chest, fast and erratic. Olivia had never known how to defend herself. She was vulnerable—an easy target for anyone with ill intentions.“I’m s
After weeks of hiding—both myself and the injury I had sustained during that disastrous attempt at an attack—I had finally begun to feel physically whole again. The deep bruises that once painted my cheekbone had faded enough for makeup to mask them entirely. On the surface, I could pass for fine.
It took what felt like an impenetrable eternity to collect myself from the cold, wet ground and come to stand. My legs felt numb and refused to cooperate at first. I used to hands to cling to my parents’ tombstones for support - ironic and even more saddening. Even in death, I needed them more than
I was profoundly grateful to Lincoln for letting me spend the night at his place. After everything that had happened—after almost dying twice—the thought of being alone in the quiet dark filled me with a kind of fear I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. I understood that sooner or later, I’d ha







