Page 38 of Mine to Fear
“Your choices?” I felt my voice rising. “You didn’t choose any of this. You didn’t choose to be abused. You didn’t choose to be hunted. You didn’t choose to have your life used as a weapon against innocent people.”
“But I did choose to leave. I chose to come here, to let you save me, to put you and your business and your clients in the crosshairs of a madman.”
“And I chose to save you. I chose to bring you into my life. If anyone’s responsible for this situation, it’s me.”
“That’s not?—”
“It’s exactly that.” I pulled her to her feet, my hands on her shoulders, needing her to see the truth. “I knew he was dangerous. I knew he’d try to find you. I should have prepared better and should have anticipated this. The failure is mine, not yours.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. It only matters how we fix it.”
“We don’t fix it by feeding you to the monster. We fix it by fighting back.”
For the first time since she entered my office, she looked uncertain. “How?”
“We set a trap. We use the fact that he wants you to draw him out. We coordinate with law enforcement, we gather evidence, and we end this permanently.”
“And if people get hurt while we’re setting your trap?”
“Then we live with that. Because the alternative is worse.”
“How is saving innocent lives worse than?—”
“Because you’re not just saving lives. You’re teaching him that violence works. That threatening people you care about is an effective way to control you. You’re guaranteeing that he’ll use the same tactics again and again until one day you’re dead and he’s moved on to terrorizing someone else.”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing what I said. When she finally spoke, her voice was small but steady.
“What if your plan doesn’t work? What if he figures out it’s a trap and people die anyway?”
“Then at least they die because we fought back instead of because we surrendered.”
“And what if I die?”
The question hit me like a punch to the solar plexus. I stared at her for a long moment, seeing not just the woman she’d become but the girl she was—brave and stubborn and willing to sacrifice herself for anyone she loved.
“Then I’ve failed at the one thing that mattered most.” I took her hands, needing her to hear the truth instead of empty promises. “But Willa, I’ve been doing this for years. I know how to minimize risk. The FBI will have snipers positioned, body armor on you, agents in every corner of that warehouse.”
“That’s not a guarantee.”
“No. It’s not.” I squeezed her hands. “But the alternative is letting him control the rest of your life. And I’ve seen what that looks like—it’s a slower kind of dying.”
Her eyes searched mine. “You’re really not afraid?”
Something shifted in her expression then. The resignation faded, replaced by something that looked almost like hope.
She stepped closer then, close enough that I could smell her shampoo, could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Even if it means risking everything you’ve built?”
“Everything I’ve built is meaningless if I lose you in the process of protecting it.”
The confession slipped out before I could stop it, too honest and too revealing. But instead of pulling away, she reached up to cup my face, her thumb stroking across my cheek the way I did to her the night I said we were too broken to fix each other.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“So am I.”
“But you’ll help me fight?”
“I’ll help you win.”
