Chapter 14 — Welcome Home, Please Don’t Scream
1391 Words
My house was too quiet.
Not the peaceful, *ah-I-finally-paid-my-bills* kind of quiet, but the kind that felt staged. Like silence had been hired as an accomplice. The porch light was on, which was wrong—I never left it on unless I expected someone, and I hadn’t invited danger over for dinner.
“Tell me again why we’re not calling the cops,” I said, unlocking the door with fingers that refused to stop shaking.
Damien stood slightly behind me, one hand already on my back, the other very clearly prepared to ruin someone’s evening. “Because whoever sent that message wants leverage. Police make leverage messy.”
“I like messy,” I muttered. “Messy ends with handcuffs.”
“And bodies,” he replied calmly. “Sometimes ours.”
I sighed. “Fine. No cops. But if I die, haunt you.”
“You’d be unbearable as a ghost,” he said. “You’d critique the afterlife.”
“I absolutely would,” I said. “First note: terrible lighting.”
The door creaked open.
Nothing jumped out. No masked villain. No dramatic monologue. Honestly? Rude. If you’re going to traumatize someone, at least commit to the theatrics.
The living room looked untouched. Couch pillows smugly aligned. Coffee table clean. My plant—still somehow alive—sat in the corner, judgmental as ever.
“Rowan?” I called softly.
No answer.
My heart started doing parkour in my chest.
Damien swept the room with his eyes. “No signs of forced entry.”
“Because whoever did this knows me,” I said. “Or paid someone who stalks like it’s an Olympic sport.”
We moved deeper into the house. Kitchen. Clean. Too clean. Someone had wiped the counters. I hadn’t.
“Oh hell no,” I said. “They cleaned?”
Damien paused. “What.”
“I don’t clean,” I said. “That’s how I know someone’s been here.”
His mouth twitched. “That might be the saddest security system I’ve ever heard.”
“Judge me later,” I snapped. “Find my child.”
We reached the hallway.
Rowan’s bedroom door was open.
My legs felt heavy as we stepped inside. The bed was made. Toys lined up in unnatural order. His favorite dinosaur sat on the pillow, angled just slightly wrong—like it had been placed by someone who didn’t understand emotional support reptiles.
Then I saw it.
A note. Folded neatly. On the desk.
I snatched it up before Damien could stop me.
*You taught him to be brave.*
My vision blurred.
*Now let’s see how brave you are.*
“That’s it?” I said hoarsely. “That’s the whole message? No signature? No flourish? Kidnappers these days are so lazy.”
Damien took the note from my shaking hands, jaw tight. “This is deliberate. They want you angry.”
“Well congratulations,” I said. “I’m furious and emotionally caffeinated.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another unknown number.
*He’s safe. For now.*
“For now,” I echoed, laughing without humor. “Oh, I love a conditional promise.”
Damien checked the windows. “We need to move him.”
“Rowan isn’t here,” I snapped. “Unless he’s mastered invisibility, which frankly wouldn’t shock me.”
“He means when we get him back,” Damien said. “This house is compromised.”
“No,” I said flatly. “This house is mine. I will not let some overgrown ego with a burner phone chase me out.”
Damien turned to me fully. “Ava.”
I met his gaze. “You don’t get to ‘Ava’ me. Not now.”
Silence stretched. Heavy. Dangerous.
Then Oliver’s voice came through my phone, breathless. “I traced the signal. It bounced through three proxies, but I’ve got a location cluster.”
“Please tell me it’s not somewhere with clowns,” I said.
“Warehouse district,” he replied. “Old shipping yard near the river.”
Damien didn’t hesitate. “We’re coming.”
“Wait,” Oliver said. “There’s more. The account that sent the image—it’s linked to a shell company.”
My stomach twisted. “Whose.”
Oliver hesitated just long enough to ruin my blood pressure. “Calder Media Holdings.”
I laughed. Loud. Sharp. A little unhinged. “Of course it is. Because subtlety died years ago.”
Damien grabbed his jacket. “They’re escalating.”
“They always do when they’re scared,” I said, grabbing my keys. “Which means we’re doing something right.”
We were halfway to the door when a slow clap echoed from the hallway.
I froze.
“That’s new,” I whispered. “Please tell me you heard that.”
“I heard it,” Damien said quietly.
A figure stepped into the doorway of Rowan’s room.
Female. Well-dressed. Perfect posture. Smile sharp enough to draw blood.
“Still dramatic,” she said. “Even when you’re losing.”
My nails dug into my palms. “Miranda.”
She tilted her head. “You remember me.”
“I remember everyone who tried to destroy my life,” I said. “It’s a short list. You made the cut.”
Miranda’s smile widened. “You always were so personal about business.”
“You kidn*pped my child,” I said. “This stopped being business.”
She raised a brow. “kidn*pped is such an ugly word. I prefer *relocated*.”
Damien stepped forward. “You have ten seconds to leave.”
She glanced at him dismissively. “And you are?”
“Someone you don’t want to test,” he replied.
Miranda laughed. “Oh, I adore men who think they’re consequences.”
I shot back, “And I adore women who confuse confidence with delusion. It makes the downfall more entertaining.”
She turned her attention back to me. “You should’ve stayed quiet. Played the victim. The public was starting to forget.”
“I don’t exist for their comfort,” I said. “And I don’t disappear on command.”
Miranda sighed. “You always had a talent for making powerful people nervous.”
“Good,” I said. “Fear keeps them honest.”
She stepped closer. “Rowan is leverage. You know how this works.”
“I know exactly how this ends,” I said coldly. “And spoiler alert—it’s not in your favor.”
Miranda’s eyes flicked to Damien. “You think he can protect you?”
“I don’t think,” I replied. “I know.”
Her smile faltered for half a second. It was subtle. Delicious.
“Give me my child,” I said. “And I might let you walk away.”
Miranda laughed. “You don’t have that power.”
Roast line one landed clean: “Funny thing about power—it tends to shift when people realize you’re just a loud woman with borrowed authority.”
Her jaw tightened.
She straightened her coat. “You have twenty-four hours. Withdraw the tapes. Public apology. Full retraction.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
She smiled again. “Then Rowan learns what it costs to have a mother who won’t behave.”
Something inside me snapped. Clean. Precise.
Roast line two cut deep: “Threatening a child doesn’t make you strong. It just proves you’re too weak to fight me directly.”
Miranda’s eyes hardened. “You’re running out of time.”
“So are you,” I said. “And unlike you, I run well under pressure.”
She turned and walked out like she owned the hallway.
The door closed behind her.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Damien exhaled slowly. “We’re not waiting twenty-four hours.”
“No,” I said, already dialing Oliver back. “We’re taking Rowan back tonight.”
My phone buzzed one last time.
A video notification.
I opened it.
Rowan sat on a chair, unharmed, eyes steady. He looked straight into the camera.
“Mom,” he said quietly. “I’m okay. Don’t listen to them.”
The video cut.
Text followed immediately:
*Tick tock.*
I smiled.
“Oh,” I said softly, voice trembling with fury. “They just made this personal.”
- Writer
