Chapter 167
Daniel’s POV
The neon sign for the rundown motel flickered above as I parked the car in the lot. Gravel crunched under the tires, the sound loud in the quiet night. I killed the engine and turned to look at the back seat. Ethan and Emma were still out cold, their small faces slack with the kind of peace only children could have. It wasn’t real peace, though–not with everything going on.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Christiana’s kids. Her precious little ones. The only reason I was going through with this.
This is for you, Christiana,” I muttered, barely loud enough to hear myself.
Pulling the key out of the ignition, I stepped out into the cool night air. It smelled faintly of rain and dirt. Not the worst place I’d been, but far from the luxury those kids were probably used to. Still, it was out of the way. Safe enough for what I needed to do.
I glanced at the receptionist inside the glass office as I approached. She looked half–asleep, her head resting on her hand while her other scrolled lazily on her phone. Good. I didn’t need anyone asking too many questions tonight.
The door creaked as I stepped inside.
“Need a room,” I said, keeping my voice low but firm.
The woman barely looked up, her face blank. “How many nights”
“Just one.” I slid some cash across the counter. “Got two kids with me. They’re asleep in the car. Long drive.”
That got her attention. Her eyes flicked up, curiosity sparking, but she didn’t push. She just gave a slow nod and slid a key across the counter.
“Room six. Down the left.”
“Thanks.” I pocketed the key and turned to leave.
Outside, I opened the back door of the car. Ethan was slumped against his seatbelt, his small chest rising and falling evenly. I reached in and unbuckled him, careful not to jostle him too much. He murmured something in his sleep but didn’t wake, his head falling against my shoulder as I carried him out.
The weight of him felt so small in my arms. Too small.
“This isn’t about you, kid,” I whispered, glancing down at his peaceful face. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Walking back toward the motel, I nodded briefly to the receptionist when her gaze lingered on us. “Rough night,” Lsaid, keeping my tone light. “They just need some rest.”
She gave me a tight smile and turned back to her phone.
Inside the room, I set Ethan down gently on the bed. His body sank into the worn mattress, and he curled up clutching the blanket I draped over him.
instinctively,
I went back for Emma next. She was lighter, her little frame bundled up in her jacket. Her hair stuck to her face as I picked her up, and I brushed it back gently with my fingers.
“You’re tougher than you look, huh?” I murmured, carrying her into the room.
She let out a soft sigh as I placed her next to Ethan, her hand automatically reaching out until it found his. Even asleep, they
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Chapter 167
were connected. It was a small gesture, but it made my chest tighten for a moment.
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I sat down heavily in the chair by the window, rubbing my hands over my face. The kids were asleep. Everything was going to plan. But still, there was this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I stared at them for a long time. They were so small, so innocent. It was hard to believe they belonged to someone like Alex.
“Christiana’s kids,” I muttered under my breath. That made all the difference.
Alex didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve her. He was the reason things had gone so wrong, the reason she’d looked at me like I was nothing.
But this? This would make her see.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, the hands ticking too slow. Christiana would be panicking by now, frantic. She’d come running when I reached out. She’d have to.
“Soon,” I said to myself, leaning back in the chair. “Soon, you’ll see this is the only way.”
The kids stirred slightly, and I stood up, pacing the room. Emma’s hand slipped away from Ethan’s, and I moved to tuck the blanket tighter around her.
There was no point in second–guessing now. The wheels were already in motion. Christiana would come to me, and I’d finally have the chance to show her that Alex wasn’t the man she thought he was.
I paused, looking down at the kids again. Ethan’s small fingers twitched, and Emma let out another soft sigh.
They were just kids. Christiana’s kids. And no matter how much I hated Alex, I couldn’t hurt them.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use them.
An hour later.
Ethan stirred first, his tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. His little face scrunched up, groggy and confused. I watched as his eyelids fluttered open, those innocent brown eyes blinking up at the ceiling before darting around the room. It didn’t take long for confusion to settle in, his small body stiffening as he realized he wasn’t at home.
“Emma,” he whispered, shaking his sister beside him. “Wake up.
Emma let out a soft groan, curling tighter under the blanket, but Ethan wasn’t having it. He sat up, shaking her harder.
“Emma! This isn’t home!” he said, his voice growing louder, a mix of panic and urgency.
I stood up from the chair in the corner, already feeling my pulse quicken. “Hey, buddy,” I said, trying to sound calm. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward me, and his wide, teary eyes narrowed. “Where’s my mom?”
“Yeah,” Emma mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep as she sat up. “Where’s Mommy?”
The panic spread quickly. Ethan grabbed her hand, his little chest heaving. Emma’s lower lip started trembling as she looked around the unfamiliar room.
“I want Mommy!” she cried, her voice cracking.
“I want Daddy!” Ethan shouted, his voice rising above hers.
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My head started to pound. They were both crying now, tears streaming down their small faces, and the sound was like a siren in the quiet motel. My hands clenched into fists as I tried to think.
“Hey! Hey! It’s okay,” I said, stepping closer. “Your mom’s coming, okay? She’s on her way.”
But they didn’t stop. Emma clung to Ethan, her sobs getting louder. Ethan’s face was red and blotchy, and he glared at me through his tears.
“I want my daddy!” he yelled again, his voice breaking with emotion.
Daddy. Alex. My jaw tightened. The very mention of that man made my stomach twist.
“Listen,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your mom is coming. I promise. She’s just running a little late, but she’ll be here soon. You just have to be patient, okay?”
“No!” Ethan cried, shaking his head violently. “I don’t believe you!”
Emma’s cries only grew louder, and the two of them clung to each other, their tiny voices echoing off the motel walls. My nerves were fraying by the second.
“Alright, alright, listen!” I raised my voice, trying to get their attention. They both froze for a second, their tear–streaked faces staring at me. “If you keep crying, your mom might not find us, okay? We need to stay calm so she can come here faster.”
Emma hiccupped, her sobs slowing just a bit, but Ethan wasn’t buying it. His glare was unwavering, defiant even.
“I don’t believe you,” he said again, his voice quieter but no less firm.
I ran a hand down my face, pacing the room. This wasn’t part of the plan. I hadn’t accounted for this–the noise, the tears, the sheer stubbornness of these kids.
“Okay, okay,” I muttered to myself, trying to think. Then my eyes landed on the juice cartons I’d grabbed earlier.
They needed to calm down. Fast.
I grabbed the cartons and held them up. “Look, how about some juice? You must be thirsty after that long drive.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s in it?”
“Just juice,” I said, forcing a smile. “Apple juice. You like apple juice, right?”
He didn’t answer, and I could see the hesitation on his face. Smart kid. Too smart.
“Come on,” I urged, crouching down to their level. “It’ll make you feel better. And then, when your mom gets here, you’ll have more energy to hug her.”
Emma reached for the juice first, her small fingers trembling as she took it. Ethan watched her for a moment before reluctantly taking his own.
“Good,” I said, nodding. “That’s it. Just a few sips.”
Emma drank without hesitation, but Ethan paused, his little brow furrowed. He sniffed the juice, his nose wrinkling.
“It smells weird,” he said.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, keeping my tone light. “It’s just been in the car for a while. It’s perfectly good, I promise.”
He hesitated, then finally took a small sip. I let out a silent breath of relief as he swallowed, though his expression was still uncertain.
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“See?” I said. “Not so bad, right?”
Ethan didn’t answer, but he took another sip, his small shoulders relaxing just a little. Emma had already drained half of hers, her sobs now reduced to soft sniffles.
Within minutes, their eyelids started drooping. Emma yawned, her head falling against Ethan’s shoulder. He tried to fight it, blinking rapidly, but it was no use.
“I’m tired,” Emma mumbled, her voice barely audible.
“Me too,” Ethan said, his words slurring.
“Just rest,” I said softly, standing up. “Your mom will be here when you wake up.”
They didn’t respond. Emma was already out, her breathing steady. Ethan fought it for a few more seconds, his small hand gripping the blanket tightly.
“What kind of juice makes you this sleepy?” he murmured, his voice fading as his eyes fluttered closed.
I stared at them for a long moment, my chest tight with a mix of emotions I didn’t want to name. They were asleep again, their small bodies curled up together on the bed.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling heavily. This was harder than I thought it would be. But I wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Christiana would come. She had to. And when she did, everything would fall into place.
The room felt heavy with silence now, the muffled hum of the motel’s air conditioning the only sound. I sat back down on the chair, my body tense and worn out from the chaos of the last hour. The kids were finally asleep again, their soft breaths rising and falling in unison. For the first time all day, the stillness gave me a moment to breathe.
I glanced at my reflection in the grimy mirror on the wall. My face looked drawn, the weight of the past few days etched into every line. My shirt clung to my back from sweat, my hair disheveled and sticking up in odd directions. I looked like hell.
Pushing off the chair, I grabbed my duffel bag and headed for the bathroom. Inside, the fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow on the cracked tiles. I splashed water on my face, scrubbing at the grime and sweat until my skin
felt raw.
When I looked back up, my reflection stared at me with tired eyes, but the determination was still there. I dried my face with a rough towel and ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing it back. It didn’t do much to fix my appearance, but it was something.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I glanced at the kids again. They were still sound asleep, curled up together like two little angels. For a moment, a flicker of guilt twisted in my gut.
“They’re just leverage,” I muttered under my breath, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
I sat back down and reached for my phone, the cold device feeling heavy in my hand. My thumb hovered over the screen as I thought about my next move.
Christiana would be desperate by now. That was the plan. And I had to strike while the fire was still burning hot.
I unlocked the phone and started typing, my fingers flying over the screen with purpose.
