Chapter 22: Let Me Have This One

We took the stairs because the elevators were slow, and Rhys went down them two at a time.

My ribs screamed at every landing.

"Stay behind me," he said.

"No."

He looked back, saw my face, and took my hand instead.

The lobby of Carrow Tower was forty feet of white marble, and it was packed.

Cameras stood in rows behind the velvet ropes, and a hundred phones were up.

Emmett stood in the middle of the floor, in his gray coat, with no tie.

He had been running. His hair was wet at the temples, and one cuff hung open.

Two security guards held the reporters back.

Nobody held Emmett back, because nobody knew yet what he was.

"Annie," he said.

He said it softly, the way he used to say it across a kitchen island.

The cameras swung toward me, and the whole lobby went quiet.

"Don't," I said.

"I need you to hear me. Just you. Then I'll go with anyone you like."

"You said the fire would be small," I said.

A reporter in the front row lowered her phone, then lifted it again.

Emmett's face moved. It looked for the right expression and found none.

"I didn't know about the valve," he said. "Not until it was over. I swear to you."

"You asked me to wait in four-oh-six."

"I was coming for you."

"You were in a bar on Rush Street."

I had read the statement in the folder. He had been there until the fire trucks passed the window.

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