Paying My Father's Debt

Chapter 13:

“Dad,” she whispered, and then she was across the room, arms flung around him before he could even brace for it.

Ben caught her with a grunt, stiff for a second, then folded her into a hug like he was afraid she’d disappear if he held too tight. Mary buried her face into his shoulder, the smell of him—cigarettes and old aftershave—hitting her like a memory she wasn’t ready for. Her throat ached.

“You’re okay,” she breathed. “I thought you were—”

“How did you get away?” he interrupted, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “How the hell did you—”

“I didn’t run,” she said. “He let me come.”

Ben blinked. “He—” Then his voice turned sharp. “You mean William’s outside? Right now?!”

Panic flared in his eyes. He shot a look at Neil, who was already straightening behind the desk.

“Relax,” she said, surprised by her own calm. “He’s waiting at the front. Gave me five minutes.”

Ben’s hands dropped from her arms like they burned him. “Five minutes?! Jesus Christ, Mary, you led him here—”

“He trusted me,” she cut in.

Ben stared. And that was when it hit her.

How strange it was, how twisted, that the man who’d stolen her from her life had also been the first to let her live it. In a few days with William, she’d seen more of the real world—its danger, its filth, its rules—than in her entire life as Ben Callahan’s daughter. He’d always tried to keep her clean, untouched, delicate. An innocent flower locked in a crystal vase.

Will had thrown her into the mud. And for some reason, she didn’t feel broken.

She felt awake.

The realization made something knot in her stomach. Guilt, maybe. Or shame. Or something stranger, heavier.

Ben saw it on her face. He stepped back, eyes narrowing. “What’s he done to you?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “He hasn’t touched me. Not like that.”

Her voice was firm. But she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend him.

Neil cleared his throat behind them, polite but pointed.

Mary turned, softening when she looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell Will you were alive? We thought—”

“I’m laying low,” Neil said simply. “If they think I’m dead, I can work better. Shadows suit me.”

Mary frowned. “So who sent the shirt? Who wanted me to see that?”

He smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes. “A lot of people want to scare William. Using you is the smart move. But I’m not sure which of them actually pulled the trigger. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t say it here.”

He’d deflected that too easily. Mary caught it.

So did her father, who suddenly grabbed her wrist. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Right now.”

“What?”

“There’s a back door. We can be out of this city in an hour.”

Neil stepped aside. “I’ll cover you. Go now. I can stall if I need to.”

Mary hesitated. Her heart thumped. The thought of disappearing—escaping it all—hit her like a bolt of cold air.

But she let herself be guided. Down the stairs. Through a hallway lit only by a flickering exit sign. Her father was breathing hard, muttering half-formed plans under his breath. Neil’s voice faded behind them.

They reached the final door. Ben reached for the handle.

It opened before he touched it.

And standing there, silhouetted against the streetlight—calm, composed, lethal—was William.

He didn’t raise his voice.

Didn’t move.

Just looked at Mary with those unreadable, glacial eyes.

“So this is how you repay me,” he said, almost gently. “Let’s settle that, shall we?”