Six months later, Beth called Ross Ferry’s private number at 6:42 on a Saturday evening.

He answered on the first ring.

“Beth.”

“I have an emergency.”

Ross stood immediately.

He was inside his office with Victor.

“What happened?”

“I need you at Margaret’s house.”

His expression sharpened.

“Is my mother okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the emergency?”

Beth looked around Margaret’s kitchen.

Margaret was standing beside a cake, trying not to laugh.

“Your mother refuses to admit she cheated.”

Ross went silent.

“What?”

“We’re playing cards.”

“That is not an emergency.”

“It is when she owes me forty-two dollars.”

In the background Margaret shouted, “Liar!”

Beth laughed.

Ross slowly sat back down.

“You called my emergency number because my mother cheated at cards?”

“Correct.”

Victor was listening.

Ross covered the phone.

“Go home.”

Victor grinned.

“You sure?”

“Immediately.”

Victor left laughing.

Ross returned to the call.

“You realize six months ago you only used this number because two men were trying to abduct you.”

“I remember.”

“And now you’re using it over forty-two dollars.”

“Character development.”

Ross shook his head.

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No?”

“No. Dinner’s at seven.”

“You’re inviting me?”

“Your mother is inviting you.”

Margaret shouted, “Coward!”

Beth corrected herself.

“Your mother is threatening you.”

“That sounds more accurate.”

“Seven o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

Beth smiled.

“I knew you’d come if I called.”

Ross became quiet.

The same words.

But this time there were no sirens.

No shattered glass.

No rain.

Just Beth.

Safe.

Waiting for him.

“I always will,” he said.

---

Ross arrived eighteen minutes later.

Margaret opened the door.

“You’re late.”

“I’m twelve minutes early.”

“Beth has been here an hour.”

“She likes you better.”

“Everyone does.”

Ross walked into the kitchen.

Beth was standing beside the table.

No hospital gown.

No stretcher.

No police lights reflected across wet pavement.

Just jeans, a soft blue sweater, and the small fading scar near her temple.

Ross stopped.

Beth noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring again.”

“This time I’m not checking the scar.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“That was almost charming.”

“I’m improving.”

Margaret put down three plates.

“I’d like credit.”

“No,” they answered together.

Margaret laughed.

Dinner lasted nearly two hours.

They argued about baseball.

Margaret accused Beth of helping Ross cheat at cards.

Beth accused Margaret of inventing rules.

Ross mostly watched them.

After dinner, Margaret disappeared upstairs.

Beth stepped onto the back porch.

Ross followed.

The evening was cool.

Quiet.

Beth leaned against the railing.

“How’s Daniel?”

“Working with prosecutors.”

“You speak to him?”

“Sometimes.”

“And Victor?”

“Still complaining that I’ve become boring.”

Beth smiled.

“And the company?”

“Legitimate freight only. New compliance team. External audits.”

“That sounds painfully respectable.”

“I’m suffering.”

She laughed.

Then her expression became more serious.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you okay?”

Ross looked toward the yard.

Six months ago, he would have lied.

Now he said, “Getting there.”

Beth nodded.

“Me too.”

He looked at her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the old card he had given her months earlier.

His private number was still written across the back.

Ross stared at it.

“You kept that?”

“Obviously.”

“You don’t need it anymore.”

Beth frowned.

“Why?”

Ross took out his phone.

He opened his contacts and showed her the screen.

Her name was there.

Beth Sloan.

Below it was her number.

She laughed.

“That’s your big romantic gesture?”

“I’m new at this.”

“You could have bought flowers.”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“Your apartment.”

“I wasn’t home.”

“I noticed.”

Beth shook her head.

“You’re terrible at romance.”

“I’m excellent at logistics.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“I can learn.”

Beth stepped closer.

“That might take years.”

“I have time.”

She looked up at him.

“Good answer.”

Ross touched her cheek gently.

He waited.

Beth closed the remaining distance and kissed him.

No sirens interrupted.

No phones rang.

No one came running.

When they separated, Ross rested his forehead against hers.

Beth smiled.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“The first time I called you, I thought it might be the last phone call I ever made.”

Ross’s smile disappeared.

Beth squeezed his hand.

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.”

“And I don’t want that night to be the thing that defines us.”

“It won’t.”

“What will?”

Ross thought about it.

Then he looked through the kitchen window.

Margaret was blatantly watching them from behind the curtain.

Beth followed his gaze.

Margaret immediately disappeared.

Beth burst out laughing.

Ross shook his head.

“That, apparently.”

“What?”

“My mother refusing to mind her own business.”

Beth laughed harder.

Ross took her hand.

For years, his private number had existed for emergencies.

Problems.

Threats.

Things that needed immediate answers.

Beth had used it once because she was terrified.

Then she used it again because she wanted him at dinner.

Ross preferred the second call.

Because Gavin Ror had been wrong about one thing.

Beth Sloan had never become Ross Ferry’s weakness.

She became the reason he stopped confusing fear with power.

The reason he stopped believing every problem needed to be solved in the shadows.

And the reason a number meant for emergencies eventually became something much simpler.

A number Beth could call whenever she wanted him to come home.

And Ross always answered.