CHAPTER 19: BURN THEM ALL

EMBER'S POV

I'm drowning.

Gale's hand is around my throat, squeezing, his breath hot and reeking of whiskey. The living room of our Seattle apartment tilts sideways. He's yelling something—I can never remember what sets him off, just that his face goes dark and suddenly I'm against the wall.

"Nobody respects me because of you," he snarls, shaking me hard enough that my teeth rattle. "You humiliate me. Every fucking day."

I try to speak, to apologize for whatever I did wrong this time, but his grip tightens.

Then the glass. He grabs it from the side table and hurls it at the wall beside my head. It explodes in a shower of crystal, shards biting into my cheek.

He laughs—cold, mirthless—and releases me.

"Clean it up," he says, walking away. "And be more careful about making me angry."

I'm on my knees in the wreckage, hands shaking, when the memory fractures—

"Ember."

The voice cuts through the nightmare.

"Breathe."

My eyes snap open and I'm gasping, thrashing against restraints that aren't there. My heart is trying to escape my ribs. There's a monitor beside me beeping frantically, tracking my panic in real time.

Not Seattle. Not our apartment.

The room is white and sterile. Medical. Safe.

Knox sits in the chair beside my bed, still wearing his tuxedo but it's wrecked—bow tie gone, collar unbuttoned, sleeves pushed to his elbows. There's something dark on his white cuff. Blood, maybe. His hair is disheveled like he's been running his hands through it for hours.

His eyes lock onto mine—wild, relieved, furious.

"In through your nose," he says, voice rough and controlled. "Four counts. Hold it. Out through your mouth for six. Do it."

I obey because I'm still drowning and his voice is the only thing keeping me tethered.

In. One, two, three, four. Hold. Out. One, two, three, four, five, six.

Again.

The beeping slows. My vision clears.

I'm in a private clinic—expensive, quiet. An IV runs from my left arm. I'm wearing a soft gray hospital gown that smells like lavender and antiseptic.

"What happened?" My voice comes out hoarse.

Knox leans forward, elbows on his knees. His jaw is tight enough to crack teeth.

"You tell me. What do you remember?"

The bathroom. Logan's cold smile. The envelope. The letter.

"I—" My throat closes.

"You collapsed in the women's bathroom," Knox says when I don't continue. "Someone screamed. Security found you unconscious on the floor." He pauses, something dark flickering across his face. "I carried you here myself. You've been out for three hours. The doctor says you had a panic attack."

Three hours. The dinner must be long over.

"I watched the security footage," he continues, and now his voice drops to something lethal. "I saw him. Logan Reeves. He followed you into that bathroom and locked the door behind him."

His hands curl into fists on his thighs.

"What did he say to you?"

I swallow hard, my mouth dry. "Water?"

His expression hardens but he doesn't push. He presses a button and within seconds a nurse appears. She brings water with a flexible straw. I drink gratefully while Knox watches me like he's cataloging every breath I take.

The nurse checks my vitals, makes notes, disappears.

The second she's gone, Knox leans forward again. "Tell me."

"He made me an offer." The words feel heavy. "One billion dollars to disappear. Tonight. He said there was a car waiting. New identity, new life. Anywhere I wanted to go."

Knox's eyes flash gold for half a second. "In exchange for what?"

"A letter." My hands start shaking again. "He wanted me to sign a letter."

"What did it say?"

I force myself to meet his eyes. "That you kidnapped me on December 24th. That you held me captive in your penthouse. That you—" My voice breaks. "That you raped me. Repeatedly. That you forced me to make statements against Gale under threat of death."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Then Knox laughs—low and dark and absolutely murderous.

"He actually thought that would work." There's genuine amusement in his voice, layered over something vicious. "Interesting strategy. Stupid, but interesting."

"He said if I didn't sign it, he'd destroy me. That he has resources and connections I can't imagine and he'd use all of them."

Knox's smile turns razor-sharp. "Reeves does have resources. Impressive ones, actually. He didn’t become a successful businessman by playing clean." He leans back in his chair, eyes cold. "I'll burn every single one of them before breakfast."

The certainty in his voice should probably scare me. Instead, it makes me feel safe.

I look down at my hands, still trembling in my lap.

"I told him no."

"Good." Knox's voice softens fractionally. "What else?"

"That's it. He left. Then I—" I gesture vaguely at myself, the clinic, the IV. "I couldn't breathe. Everything just... stopped."

Knox reaches out and takes my hand—the one without the IV—threading his fingers through mine. His grip is warm and solid.

"You were unsettled all through the time you were unconscious," he says quietly. "What were you dreaming about?"

I try to pull my hand away but he holds firm.

"Nothing. Just noise."

"Ember." His voice drops to that gentle-but-firm tone that tells me he's not letting this go. "What were you dreaming about?"

I look away, focusing on the monitor instead of his face.

"Gale. When he got drunk."

Knox goes very still. "How drunk?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

I take a shaky breath. "There was a glass. He threw it at the wall next to my head. He was angry about something—I never know what sets him off. He grabbed me by the throat, shook me, said I was humiliating him. That nobody respected him because of me."

The words sound small in the quiet room. Like excuses.

Knox's grip on my hand tightens.

"That won't happen again," he says as a statement of fact. "I'll make sure of it."

I want to believe him. I'm terrified that I do.

"How long was I actually out?" I ask, desperate to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"Past midnight. You collapsed around nine-thirty." He doesn't let go of my hand. "Queenie's been here the whole time. She's in the waiting room, probably terrorizing the staff."

Despite everything, I almost smile. "Can I see her?"

"Soon." Knox squeezes my hand gently. "But there's something else you should know."

Before I can ask what he means, the door opens.

The same nurse from before steps in, looking deeply uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but there's a woman at the front desk making quite a scene. She's claiming she's the patient's mother and demanding to see her immediately."

My stomach drops so fast I feel dizzy.