Chapter 208
Chapter 208:
“The past is over.” Dallas squeezed her hand, his eyes steady on the road. “The future is us p>
The drive from the hospital was short and silent — a necessary decompression after the violence of the parking lot. But Dallas hadn’t turned the car toward the penthouse. He had driven straight to the precinct. There would be no rest until the legal iron curtain dropped on the Solomons.
Inside, the weight of what they were doing settled over Eliza. The police station was a cold, impersonal place of beige walls and stale coffee. She felt a strange detachment as she sat in a small interview room — Dallas at her side, two of his most formidable lawyers across the table.
Zane had already delivered a mountain of digital evidence: financial records, timelines, and security logs that painted a damning picture of Buck Solomon’s greed.
Eliza recounted everything, her voice even and clear. She spoke of the club, of Dante Luna, of the threats. Then she spoke of the fire. She relayed Margo’s confession, the words feeling foreign in her mouth, as though they belonged to someone else’s life. With every sentence, she felt a weight lifting — a decade of buried grief and confusion finally being given a voice.
Dallas never spoke, but his presence was a fortress. He held her hand beneath the table the entire time, his thumb moving slowly across her knuckles — a silent, steady source of strength. He watched the detectives with careful, unreadable eyes, making certain they treated her with the respect she deserved.
𝘋i𝘀сov𝘦𝘳 𝗻ew 𝗌to𝗋𝗂𝖾𝘴 оո ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝗺
After two hours, it was done. The lead detective, a woman with tired but kind eyes, closed her notebook. “We have Margo and Sienna Solomon in custody. Their accounts corroborate yours. We’ve issued a warrant for Buck Solomon’s arrest on multiple counts, including conspiracy to commit murder p>
Walking out into the harsh afternoon sun, Eliza blinked. The world seemed sharper somehow, the colors more vivid. “He’ll be arrested,” she said, more to herself than to Dallas.
“He’s already been apprehended.” Dallas guided her toward the car. “Zane put a tracker on him the moment he was thrown out of the hospital. He was trying to board a private jet to a non-extradition country p>
Of course he was. Dallas left nothing to chance.
“What now?” she asked as they drove away from the station.
“Now,” Dallas said, merging onto the highway that led away from the city, “we get away. Just for a few days. No phones, no lawyers, no ghosts p>
He didn’t tell her where they were going. She didn’t ask. For the first time since she was a child, she didn’t need to know the plan. She only needed to be with the man who had become her anchor in the storm.
They drove for hours. The city skyline shrank in the rearview mirror until it dissolved entirely, replaced by rolling hills and dense forest. Dallas drove with easy confidence — one hand on the wheel, the other still holding hers. The silence in the car wasn’t empty; it was full of unspoken understanding.