Jacob's lids shot open as his brows narrowed into the bridge of his nose. “What did you do?”
Four cop cars came flying around the corner, sirens blaring, lights flickering red and blue. Slamming to a stop, the doors flew open and several officers jumped out, pointing their guns at Jacob.
“Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head!”
Jacob never took his eyes off of me as he dropped to the ground and braided his fingers against the back of his skull.
“You're going to regret this,” he said under his breath as an officer came up behind him and cuffed his wrists.
“No, I think this is beautiful. Don't you?”
“Fuck you!” he spat as the officer tugged him to his feet and pushed him towards the back of the car.
“Well, I got to give credit where it's deserved,” Detective Glenn said as he walked to my side with his hand out. “You were right, that dirt-bag had us all convinced his brother was behind all of this.”
Shaking his hand, I gave him a smile. “When does Liam get released? That's the only thing I really care about.”
Cupping his hips, the detective dug his thumbs into his belt. “I already made the call, it won't be long.”
Standing by the gallery, watching Jacob tear me apart with his eyes as the officer shoved him into the back of the patrol car and drove him away, I actually felt good.
I wasn't going to allow that man to rule my life with fear or questions or worry.
It was over.
Glancing over my shoulder, I looked at my building, and that's when I realized it didn't really matter anymore.
Liam was right when he said that four walls didn't signify who I was.
It was just a building.
The building didn't make me, the walls didn't signify a piece of my father, my art wasn't created because of the gallery.
I was the glue.
Without me there was no building, without me there was no art or gallery at all.
Because I was the piece it needed to survive.
There would always be a gallery as long as I had a paintbrush.
And there would always be love as long as I had Liam.