Page 117 of Make Them Cry
“In Riverside,” I say, standing now, adrenaline kicking in. “The guys put up cameras. If Gage and I were inside all night. We can prove it.”
Knight’s already pulling out his phone. “I’ll get on the footage.”
I stop him. “Uh, there’s some…” I don’t even know how to finish my thought. Of telling Knight that Gage and I were doing very indecent things to each other last night.
Knight holds up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t worry, I’ll blur it all before we give it to the cops.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’ll get the security team at Maddox Security to prep a secondary server to host the evidence,” Arrow says, tappingaway at his phone. “That way we can submit it to the precinct directly. They’ll have no excuse not to clear him.”
Lark moves beside me and squeezes my arm. “We’re gonna get him out.”
An hour later,I’m staring at video playback of the Riverside safe house.
It’s clear as day. Timestamps. Us. Alone. Never leaving. Not once.
Just two people curled up in an apartment that has become the only place I feel safe.
I hit pause.
“There,” I say, my finger shaking as I point to the timestamp. “He didn’t do this.”
Arrow nods. “Let’s package it. Get it on the record.”
“Do you think this will be enough?” I ask.
Knight stares at the screen. “It’ll raise enough doubt to get him released, at the very least. And we’ll use it to go after whoever sent the fake video.”
Arrow nods toward my laptop. “Can I borrow your rig for five minutes? I’ll scrub the metadata, layer in third-party verification, and route it to the department’s main line.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, stepping aside.
Lark stays close. “We’ll get him out,” she says again. “I swear.”
I nod, even though I’m holding back tears.
Because I’m not just scared.
I’m angry.
Whoever did this wanted Gagegone.
Which means they think I’m alone.
But they’ve made one critical mistake.
They underestimated what I’ll do to protect the man I love.
FORTY
GAGE
The metal door clicks open, and I step out into the cold morning air. The station reeks of stale coffee and even staler bullshit. My wrists are red from the cuffs, and my jaw still aches from clenching it too long.
Arrow’s waiting in the parking lot, leaned against his Jeep with two coffees in hand. He lifts one in a silent toast.
“Nice of you to drop by,” I mutter, my voice low and ragged.
