Page 231 of Let Me In

Furious.

Defending her daughter in a way that’s years too late—but still not nothing.

And for the first time, I feel a flicker of respect for her. Just a spark.

Because she saw it. Finally.

Because maybe, deep down, she always did.

And now she can’t look away.

I wait until the door slams.

Then I climb into the truck and drive away, slow and certain, Emmy’s freedom in the rearview and her safety up ahead.

Right where I’m going.

Right where she is.

My jaw’s clenched so tight I can taste copper.

And all I can think about—what Ineed—is her.

In my arms.

Shaking from relief instead of grief.

Looking at her bike the way she used to look at freedom.

Andknowingthat from this moment forward, anything that touches her, anything that tries to take what’s hers, has to go throughme.

No one sells what belongs to her. No one threatens what’s mine.

Not without bleeding for it.

I drive. Slow, determined, and heavy. Toward her.

Where she waits.

Where she belongs.

Where she’s going to learn—

No one takes from Daddy’s girl.

Not ever again.

31

EMMY

It’sthe low rumble of his truck that hits me first.

I’m still curled on the couch, Cal’s blanket around my shoulders. The dogs stir, ears twitching. But the moment I hear that engine—steady, deliberate—I know.

He went.

He got it.

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