Page 52 of Little Did You Know

"Nick, I don't need rehab." Emmett's fingers danced across his nearest keyboard, muscle memory betraying his addiction to whatever was on those screens.

I caught Walker's eye. "Have your men clean out all these computers."

Walker's nod was crisp, military. He stepped into the hallway, already reaching for his radio.

"Wait!" Emmett stumbled up from the couch, tripping over a nest of power cables.

"Sit down," I growled, and he did.

"Nick, you don't need to take my computers." Emmett lurched up from the couch, his thin frame swaying. There was something in Emmett's voice I'd never heard before—desperation, yes, but tinged with something darker. His eyes tracked each machine like a drowning man watching his raft drift away.

I took one step forward. That was all it took—Emmett folded back into the cushions, deflating.

His fingers twitched toward the nearest laptop, protective. "Nick, you can't do this."

"You owe me $350,000, Emmett." The words tasted bitter. "I'm taking your computers as payment. You go to rehab, and we'll call it even."

Emmett's jaw worked back and forth, teeth grinding audibly in the silence. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the computers being carried away, and when he finally nodded, it was the gesture of a man watching his last lifeline slip through his fingers.

"I'll continue to help you as long as you're in rehab and once you're out unless you fall back on old ways." Several bulky men piled in one by one, each grabbing a computer and disappearing out the door.

"Are you going to tell Olivia?" Emmett asked.

"Not right now," I sighed. "We'll figure that out after you've gotten out of rehab." He looked relieved. "You need to call her, though. She's worried about you."

The walls of Emmett's apartment seemed to press closer with each passing second. My collar felt too tight, my skin too small for my body. Each breath of the moldy air coated my tongue with the taste of failure and rot.

My hand found the doorknob, knuckles still raw from earlier. The metal felt cool against my skin. The door beckoned like an oasis, promising escape from this tomb of broken promises and shattered trust.

Sucking in a deep breath of clean air, I followed Walker down the driveway toward the road where our trucks were parked.

"You think he's going to pay off his debts and check into rehab?" Walker matched my stride to the vehicle, scanning the street out of habit.

I pulled my keys from my pocket, the metal biting into my palm. "No, but for his own sake, I hope he does."

Walker's men moved quickly, each computer disappearing into an unmarked van like evidence at a crime scene. Which, I realized with a chill, was exactly what this was.

"The computers?" Walker positioned himself between me and the house, shoulders blocking any line of sight from Emmett's windows.

I watched another screen vanish into darkness. "Destroy them," I said finally. "All of them." Some questions were better left unanswered. Some doors were better left closed.

He nodded. "How long are you here for?"

"Not long."

"Can you stay for dinner?" Walker leaned against my truck door, his professional mask softening at the edges. "Amy and the kids would love to see you." His phone screen lit up with a family photo as he checked the time.

"I'll have to take a rain check on that." I fished my keys from my pocket, but didn't unlock the door yet. "I have someone else I need to see while I'm here."

My eyes drifted back to Emmett's window, where a shadow moved behind the curtains. "Will you keep an eye on him? Let me know if there's anything else."

He nodded, and I climbed into my truck. I let out a huge sigh as I watched Walker stroll over to his men and direct them to dispose of the computers.

I sat with my phone in my hand, thumb hovering over the banking app. Four hundred thousand dollars. More than I'd promised. Enough to cover whatever other surprises might be lurking in Emmett's web of lies. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was insane—throwing good money after bad behavior, rewarding someone who'd betrayed his own sister.

But this wasn't about Emmett anymore. It was about making sure Olivia could sleep at night without looking over her shoulder. About buying her peace of mind, even if she never knew the cost.

I typed in the numbers. Pressed send. Watched my account balance drop by nearly half a million dollars. The confirmation pinged cheerfully, as if I'd just bought coffee instead of paying off the devil.

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