Swaying slightly, he stood up, tossed a few bills onto the table, and stumbled out of the bar.
The chill night air hit him, making his stomach churn, but his mind felt piercingly clear.
Leaning heavily against a brick wall, he pulled out his phone.
He unlocked the screen.
He pulled up the only picture he had of Leilani since they had reunited. It was a candid shot he had secretly taken of her at the cemetery. She didn't even know it existed, and now, it might be all he had left.
His thumb lightly brushed over her smiling face on the glass, a sharp pain twisting his heart.
"I used to brag about how I'd protect you forever..." he murmured, the wind snatching his words away. "And what happened? When you actually needed me, I couldn't even get clearance to cross the border... Leilani, I'm a pretty pathetic excuse for a cop, aren't I?"
Tears welled up without warning. Ethan tilted his head back, biting his lip so hard he tasted copper.
There were no stars tonight, just the hazy, polluted glow of city lights.
He stood against that wall for a long time, until the screen went black, mirroring his own devastated expression.
Finally, he pushed himself off the brick, wiped his face, and started the long walk back to the Jenkins family estate.
It was late when Ethan pushed the front door open. The heavy stench of alcohol immediately flooded the foyer.
Between the crushing helplessness, the paralyzing fear for Leilani, and the bureaucratic brick wall he had just hit, the normally disciplined detective had finally sought refuge at the bottom of a bottle.
In the living room, his stepmother, Romina Lowell, was lounging on the sofa with a sheet mask on, watching TV.
She had been in a fantastic mood. Her husband, Dustin, had recently softened his stance on her son, Asher, even allowing him to start shadowing the company executives.
Seeing Ethan stumble in looking completely defeated—and knowing Dustin wasn't around to defend him—Romina didn't bother hiding her true colors.


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