CHAPTER 240: FINDING EMMA

Outside the window of the car, the city’s noise gave way to silence... buildings turned into scattered houses, then fields and broken fences. The road grew narrower, rougher, the darkness grew deeper, until only the headlights cut through the night.

The farmhouse was still a while away, but already the air felt different... heavier, and expectant. Like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for what they’d discover.

Inside the car, Jean leaned into Logan’s shoulder, letting her forehead rest there. For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of tires over cracked asphalt, Logan’s steady breathing beside her, and Hannah’s focused gaze ahead... carrying all of them closer to a truth they weren’t sure they were ready to face.

The car slowed to a crawl as the gravel road ended, headlights sweeping over weather beaten boards and half collapsed fences. Weeds curled around old porch steps, and broken window shutters banged gently in the breeze.

Hannah killed the engine. The sudden quiet felt deafening. No passing cars. No hum of city life. Just the rustling of grass and the echo of their own heartbeats.

Jean swallowed, her eyes fixed on the silhouette of the farmhouse. Emma might be inside. That thought burned through every bone in her body, fueling both fear and resolve.

Logan stepped out first, scanning the area, shoulders tense... protective instinct tightening every muscle. He offered Jean his hand; she took it, her palm cold in his warmth. Hannah came around from the driver’s side, her usual easy confidence replaced by something tight-lipped and worried.

They stood together at the edge of the driveway, looking at the dark porch. The farmhouse seemed almost to breathe in the moonlight, every shadow hiding a memory, every loose plank creaking like it might reveal a secret.

Jean’s voice broke the silence, raw and hoarse in anticipation. "Let’s go."

They moved in slow, deliberate steps up the path. The boards groaned underfoot, the smell of damp wood and rust thick in the air.

Logan’s hand hovered at Jean’s back... close enough to catch her if she stumbled, careful enough not to cage her. Hannah moved slightly ahead, eyes narrowed, checking for anything unusual.

At the door, Logan tried the handle. Locked. Hannah stepped closer, pulling out a small tool Priya had given her just in case.

"Cover me," she whispered.

It took only seconds, but it felt like hours. The lock clicked. Logan gently pushed the door open, and they stood at the threshold.

Inside, darkness pooled in corners, swallowing the peeling wallpaper and broken furniture. Dust hung heavy, catching the moonlight like drifting ghosts.

Jean took a trembling breath, stepped forward because somewhere inside, she hoped, Emma might be waiting.

And with Logan at her side, Hannah just behind, they crossed into the farmhouse... hearts pounding, every sense sharp, ready for whatever waited beyond the shadows.

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Inside, the air felt heavier, carrying the scent of damp wood, old fabric, and something faintly metallic. Their footsteps stirred up dust that danced lazily in the narrow beams of moonlight spilling through cracked windows.

Logan moved ahead first, carefully pushing open a door on the left. Empty... only a broken chair, tattered curtains swaying in the draft. Jean’s pulse thundered in her ears.

Emma... where are you?

They checked another room... nothing but a splintered table, old magazines scattered across the floor.

Jean’s anxiety now gets worse by every minute, "Where is he hiding Emma, goddamnit!"

Hannah gestured ahead, voice barely a whisper. "There’s a light... over there."

At the end of the narrow hallway, under the peeling ceiling, a door stood ajar. A sliver of warm, flickering light spilled into the darkness.

Jean’s breath caught. Logan felt her hand tighten in his, and he gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Together, they stepped closer, the wooden floor groaning under each cautious step.

Just as Logan’s hand reached for the door... "Well well well... It took you guys long enough to reach here."

The calm, familiar voice sliced through the tension like a blade. All three spun around, hearts leaping in shock.

There, standing just a few steps behind them in the dim hallway, was Henry. His expression is unreadable, but strangely composed. In his arms, plastic bags weighed down with groceries and what looked like medical supplements.

His hair was mussed, shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked neither surprised nor apologetic. Instead, he glanced at them as though he’d half expected this visit.

Jean stared at him, her mouth dry. "Henry... what... what are you doing here?"

Henry shifted the bags slightly, his gaze settling on Jean with an unsettling calm. "Shouldn’t the real question be... Why did it take you so long to find me? I literally left traces everywhere for you guys."

The words hung heavy in the stale air, every heartbeat echoing like a drum as they waited... for the truth, for answers.

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Jean’s eyes flashed in desperation, her voice trembling but forceful, slicing through the musty air. "Henry, enough games... where is she? Where is Emma? I need to see her now."

The bags rustled slightly in Henry’s grip as he tilted his head, studying her desperation. His gaze softened... just barely.

"Jean... calm down. She’s safe, I swear on my life."

"Show me, Henry!" Jean’s voice cracked, chest heaving. "Don’t you dare tell me to calm down... take me to her. Right now."

Logan stepped closer, his presence silently backing her demand, while Hannah hovered behind, eyes wide and anxious.

For a beat, Henry didn’t move, almost as if weighing whether to keep his secret a little longer. Then, with a heavy breath, he finally nodded.

"Alright. Follow me."

He turned, leading them down the dim hallway, past the door that had caught their attention. Every step felt impossibly slow to Jean, her heart beating painfully hard in her chest.

They reached another door... much older and worn out, a faint light spilling from beneath it. Henry set the groceries on the floor, his hand pausing on the doorknob.

"She’s inside. But... be gentle, Jean. She just woke up after so long. She’s still fragile."

Jean’s hand shot forward, pushing the door open before he finished.