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Seconds later, heavy knocks shook the door.
“Police!”
Only then did I open the closet.
My legs nearly gave out as I stepped into the hallway, holding Caleb tightly.
Officers rushed in, voices sharp, controlled, asking questions, checking the rooms, securing the apartment.
“We’re safe,” I kept repeating, more to myself than anyone else.
But even as relief washed over me, something cold settled deeper in my chest.
Ethan hadn’t just tried to hurt us.
He had planned it.
He had help.
And as I sat there holding my son, surrounded by flashing lights and unfamiliar voices, one thought wouldn’t leave my mind—
This wasn’t the end.
It was only the beginning.