Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Cans
I drove like a madman through the dark Tennessee night, the tires of my SUV screaming against the asphalt as I headed toward the tiny, dilapidated farmhouse Miller had identified as Maren's current residence.
When I pulled up the gravel driveway, the house was entirely dark, save for a single flickering candle in the window.
I got out of the car, my heart hammering against my ribs, and walked up to the creaking wooden porch. I knocked softly.
A moment later, the door opened. Maren stood there, holding a baseball bat, her eyes guarded and exhausted. When she saw me, her posture didn't soften.
"Rowan," she said, her voice like flat stone. "If Tessa sent you here to throw more money at my feet, you can leave."
"Maren," I choked out, dropping straight to my knees on the cold wooden deck. I buried my face in my hands, the tears I had held back for a year finally breaking through. "I know. I know about Tessa. I know about the hotel. I know about the necklace."
I looked up at her, my heart breaking at the sight of her hollow cheeks. "And I know about Chloe."
The baseball bat slipped from Maren's hands, clattering loudly against the floor. Her eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing terror. "How... how do you know? Did Tessa hurt her? Please, Rowan, she’s so fragile. She needs the oxygen—"
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"No, no, she's safe," I said, grabbing her hands and kissing them. "I’ve already sent my personal security detail to the facility. They have surrounded the building. Nobody touches our daughter again. I’m so sorry, Maren. I was so blind. I was so stupid."
Maren stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, the rigid armor she had worn for twelve months crumbled. She sank to the floor beside me, weeping into my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as if I could shield her from the last year of torment.
