Page 167 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

We just keep walking.

But the silence isn’t empty.

It’s full of things that don’t need to be said.

And since I asked them to share a little about them, I feel it’s only fair to tell them something about me.

Chapter 46

“What about you?”Hank asks, his voice low and even. “Tell us about the good, the bad, and the ugly of growing up as the daughter of a tech billionaire.”

I stare at the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks in rhythmic defiance.

Wild.

Free.

Everything I wasn’t.

“Hmmm…What was it like growing up with a billionaire for a father?” The words slip out, lighter than I feel. “Most people think it means privilege and excess—and yeah, I had all of that. Designer clothes, private schools, jets, anything I wanted at the snap of a finger.”

Hank arches a brow. Gabe’s watching me, too, silent, still.

“But it came at a cost,” I murmur, a breath hitching in my chest. “And before you say it—yeah, I know how that sounds. I’m not blind to the fact I was lucky. More than lucky. But when you grow up in that world, the bubble is all you know. And mine? It was lined with gold bars and reinforced with a security team who followed me to the bathroom.”

A dry laugh slips out. “I had a detail before I could even spell ‘surveillance.’ They were everywhere—looming, reporting, shadowing every breath I took.”

“Must’ve felt like prison,” Hank murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my wrist.

“Worse,” I whisper. “Especially after my mom died.”

Gabe’s expression shifts—subtle, but I catch it.

We haven’t exactly traded life stories, too sex-obsessed to do anything but fuck. It’s time, though. Time to really get to know one another. I want to share, which is why I asked that ridiculous question, jumping into the deep end about their worst missions.

“She had cancer,” I say, staring at the horizon. “It was quick. Brutal. I was thirteen when she passed. After that, the rules changed. My father tightened every restriction. More guards. More control. I couldn’t breathe without someone watching.”

A silence settles, weighted and reverent. I feel it in my bones.

“I remember the first time I snuck away,” I say softly, staring at the horizon like it might anchor me. “Fifteen. Slipped out of a gala in a hoodie and jeans, ditched the guards, just… vanished into the night. For a few hours, I could breathe. No shadows. No leash. Just freedom.”

Hank lets out a slow breath, his thumb tracing my knuckles. “You were chasing control. I get it.”

A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “I kept doing it. Sneaking out, pushing limits. I thought I’d be free if I could just outrun the cage. I wanted to feel alive.”

Gabe’s gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He already knows where this is going.

“And then Cornell happened,” I say, the words thick in my throat.

They don’t move, don’t speak—but I feel it. Their tension. The shared memory.

“I thought I was untouchable. I slipped away from campus with no guards and no plan—just a party all my friends were talking about. One night to feel normal. One night to breathe. That’s all I wanted.”

Hank’s jaw tightens. Gabe’s hand finds my thigh, grounding.

“But I was careless,” I murmur, more to myself than them, the weight of memory pressing down.

Neither of them interrupt. They know this story—every dark, brutal detail. But saying it aloud feels different. Necessary.

---