Page 144 of Played
Through the corridor, past the maintenance door, up the stairs. My boots slam against concrete. My breath burns in my throat.
Julian's in the lobby, pacing near the entrance.
"Julian!"
He spins. I crash into him, arms locking around his waist.
"You saved her," I gasp against his chest. "She was alive. She's alive because of you."
His hands cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
"We saved her."
"No. This was you. If you hadn't insisted on breaking in—"
"Liza." He pulls back, cups my face. "We did this together."
I nod, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"She was probably starving. There was almost nothing left. Food, water—barely anything. A few more days and—"
"Don't." His thumb brushes my jaw. "Don't go there."
I collapse against him again, trembling. My entire body shakes—adrenaline draining away, leaving nothing but exhaustion and relief in its wake. Julian's arms tighten around me, solid and steady, anchoring me to the moment. His heartbeat thuds against my ear, strong and rhythmic, and I focus on that sound, letting it ground me. The warmth of his chest seeps through his shirt, and I press closer, needing the contact, needing to know this is real.
Footsteps approach. Two officers—the female one from inside and a tall male partner.
"Ms. Singh? Mr. Ramirez?”
We separate. I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
"We'll need you both to come to the station for further questioning," the male officer says.
The woman steps forward. Her badge readsOfficer K. Brennan, Crisis Negotiation Team.
"I specialize in hostage and captivity cases," she explains, voice calm and steady. "I need to prepare you for what comes next—both for Claudia and for the investigation."
Colleen appears in the lobby, face streaked with tears.
Officer Brennan turns to her. "Ms. Foster?"
Colleen nods, barely holding herself together.
"Your niece has suffered severe psychological trauma. The medical team will conduct a full evaluation, but you should expect PTSD, possible dissociative episodes, trust issues. Recovery will take time. Months. Maybe years."
Colleen's hand flies to her mouth.
"But she'll have access to specialists—therapists who work exclusively with survivors of prolonged captivity. She won't go through this alone."
"Thank you," Colleen whispers.
Officer Brennan's expression softens. "You did the right thing. You never stopped looking."
The drive to the station is silent. Julian sits beside me in the back of the cruiser, his hand wrapped around mine.
I stare out the window, watching streetlights blur past. My body's buzzing—adrenaline, exhaustion, relief all tangled together. I can't sit still. My leg bounces. Julian squeezes my hand.
At the station, we're separated again. Different rooms, different officers.
