Page 24 of When You’re Broken (Finn Wright #11)

Finn walked down the softly lit hallway of the Ashtonbury Hotel, an uncomfortable overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

The carpeting underfoot was plush, woven in an intricate gold-and-burgundy pattern that managed to clash with the stark modern lines of the hallway’s walls.

The corridor itself smelled faintly of lemon polish and stale coffee, as though hurried cleaning crews had tried to erase the last occupant’s presence.

Outside, the night pressed in, darkness visible through the occasional window at the hallway’s end.

Amelia trudged beside him, her own small suitcase bumping along behind on squeaky wheels.

She looked as though she wanted to disappear into the wallpaper—arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw set.

He wished there were an easy remedy for the tension that radiated off her in invisible waves.

This forced “protective custody” arrangement was meant to keep them safe, but it felt more like a sentence, especially for Amelia, whose brother’s life hung in the balance.

They reached the end of the corridor, where two uniformed constables stood guard at a door. Both officers straightened upon seeing Finn and Amelia approach.

“Evening, ma’am. Sir,” one of the constables said, tipping his head in polite acknowledgment.

Finn mustered a faint smile, though he doubted it reached his eyes. “Evening.”

Amelia just nodded curtly, her gaze flicking over the men. She offered no greeting beyond that, as if her patience for polite niceties had long since run dry. Finn reached for the door handle, but one of the officers stepped forward.

“Inspector Winters, Mr. Wright,” he said carefully. “We’ll be stationed right here for the night, in case you need anything.”

Amelia’s expression tightened. “Thank you,” she replied. “We’ll try not to be any trouble.”

Finn thanked the officers with a subdued nod and turned the key in the lock.

The door clicked open into a standard business-hotel room—neutral beige walls, a small round table in the corner, two queen beds made with crisp white linens.

A pair of bland landscape prints hung on the walls: silhouettes of trees against a sunset, or maybe a sunrise.

They looked so generic it was impossible to tell.

He set his bag on the larger bed and stepped aside so Amelia could drag her suitcase inside. Then he shut the door behind them. A dull hush filled the room, broken only by the distant hum of air conditioning.

Amelia let out a shaky breath. “Guess this is it,” she muttered, scanning the unimpressive decor. “Our fancy hideaway.”

Finn flicked on a lamp near the bed, its glow revealing scuffed furniture that had seen better days. “At least there are no flies. That’s one plus.”

She tossed her suitcase against the wall, crossing her arms again in that defensive stance. “I wonder how long McNeill expects us to rot in here. Meanwhile, Brendan’s out there, and Wendell is free to pick off more people—like he did to Rob.”

Finn walked to the small desk, running a finger across its surface to check for dust. “Better we stay out of Wendell’s line of fire, though.

According to McNeill’s logic, anyway. We’re safer locked away while the rest of the taskforce hunts him down.

” His voice held a trace of bitterness that he couldn’t quite hide.

Amelia turned to him, her eyes reflecting the lamplight.

“And what if they don’t find him? Then what?

My brother could be gone. Or Wendell kills another friend.

Or he escalates something worse.” She swallowed, setting her jaw as though forcing back a wave of emotion.

“Finn, how do we just sit here, waiting?”

He exhaled, stepping closer, resting a hand on the side of his bag. “We have to hope McNeill and the others follow the leads we uncovered. Wendell can’t hide forever.”

She studied him for a long moment, then nodded, but it lacked conviction. “Right,” she murmured. “Sure.”

Finn tried to lighten the mood. “Let’s see if I can make this place less miserable. You want anything from the courtesy tray? Maybe instant coffee? Or we can watch some late-night movie to kill time.” It sounded halfhearted even to him, but he needed to do something.

Amelia’s gaze slid to the dark window. The city lights outside were a blur of color against the blackness.

She sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, and stared into that reflection.

“I can’t pretend everything’s normal,” she said quietly.

“Not with Brendan in danger. Not with Rob lying comatose in a hospital bed.”

Finn felt a surge of guilt. How could he ask her to relax or distract herself when the two men closest to her—her brother and their dear friend—were in dire circumstances?

“You’re right,” he said softly, dropping any pretense.

“I’m sorry. I keep telling myself we have to push the fear aside to stay sane, but that’s easier said than done. ”

She flicked her gaze to him, the lines of her face etched with sorrow. “How do you do it? Have you forgotten about Rob’s situation? That Wendell nearly killed him?”

He inhaled sharply, memories of seeing Rob's unconscious form in the hospital bed swirling in his mind. The beep of the monitors, the possibility that his friend might never wake up. "Of course, I haven't forgotten," he said, voice thick. "Rob's one of my oldest friends. I love him like a brother."

Tears gathered at the corners of Amelia’s eyes. She swiped them away with the back of her hand, her voice cracking. “Then how can you just… keep functioning?”

Finn sank onto the bed beside her, tentatively placing a hand over hers.

The simplest answer was also the hardest: necessity.

“Because all that matters now is stopping something worse from happening to you. If Wendell sets his sights on you—and we both know he has—I can’t let him get that chance.

I lost so much back in the States, my career, my sense of purpose…

By the time I landed here, I was a broken shell, just stumbling through consulting jobs. Then I met you.”

Amelia’s eyes glistened, her posture softening a fraction. “Oh, Finn…” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand gently. “You reminded me that I wasn’t done living—that I could still make a difference.

And in the process, I found… someone who saw me for me.

You became my anchor. So, yes, I’m terrified for Rob.

But if something happened to you?” His breath caught. “That’s beyond what I can bear.”

She closed her eyes, letting the moment settle. Then she leaned closer, tears still visible on her lashes. “I’m so scared for my brother. But I’m scared for you, too.”

They sat in silence, the warmth of their proximity battling the chill of dread around them.

Then Amelia leaned forward, pressing her lips to Finn’s in a kiss that carried all the tension, fear, and longing they’d bottled up.

Finn’s heart hammered, and he let himself drown in that brief moment of stolen comfort.

A sharp knock at the door jolted them apart. Finn tensed automatically, heart in his throat. Then a muffled voice: “Clint here. Everything all right inside?”

He recognized Robert Clint’s subdued baritone.

Relief tempered with annoyance at the interruption.

Finn stood, crossing to the door and peering through the peephole to confirm.

Sure enough, he spotted Clint’s sandy-blond hair.

Finn unlatched the door and opened it. “Hey, come in,” he murmured. “Just you?”

Clint stepped inside, sporting a light jacket and looking frazzled. The overhead lamp cast his shadow over the dull carpet. “Yeah, I came alone. McNeill thinks I’m at the station finishing reports.” He offered a faint grin. “How are you both feeling?”

Amelia rose from the bed, wiping a stray tear. “How do you think? We’re stuck here, useless.” The bitterness in her voice made her words cut.

Clint nodded sympathetically. “I can’t say I disagree with you.

This forced protective measure—I get McNeill’s logic, but I also think benching our best players is questionable.

Then again, I’m just the detective, he’s the Inspector.

” He sighed. “But he’s not heartless. He’s just—driven.

He wants results, even if he ruffles feathers. ”

Finn swallowed, arms crossing. “Yeah, well, let’s see if his results help Brendan or Rob. Because from our vantage, we’re not sure they will.”

Clint grimaced, searching for a response. “Look, I did come with news. We traced Harry Renfield’s phone. Or at least, we found the last place it pinged. Figured you two might want to know, even though you’re off the case.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “Off or not, we still want updates. Where was it?”

Clint took a breath. “A place called Longwood—on the eastern edge of London. Technically part of the city but basically abandoned. The phone pinged in the middle of an old shopping center. It’s scheduled for demolition, but there’s been some messy legal battles over it.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed. “Longwood? Wait, that’s the site with a huge conservation lawsuit, right? The developer wanted to bulldoze the old buildings, but some wildlife group challenged them. And nothing’s happened for years.”

“Yes,” Clint confirmed. “They tried to rejuvenate it back in the 70s and 80s, but it turned into a money pit. The city gave up. The woods started reclaiming the area, so no one lives there now, except maybe a few squatters and junkies. Hardly policed, anyway. Perfect place for Wendell to hide if he’s using Renfield’s phone or meeting him. ”

Finn’s mind raced, picturing that deserted zone. “So they found Renfield’s phone there?”

Clint nodded. “And a body. Not Renfield, but from the ID, we believe it was Stanley Peterson’s brother.

The poor man must’ve been taken there by Wendell.

Who knows how he kidnapped him. The basement there matches details from the photograph sent to Stanley, so Wendell definitely used that location.

But it looks deserted now. Forensics found the place had been covered in bleach.

Wendell might have left the phone there on purpose, or it could have been an accident. We’re not sure yet.”

Amelia’s shoulders slumped, defeat creeping into her stance. “Let’s hope it’s an accident, as it might mean he’s getting sloppy as the pressure rises... So Wendell’s obviously moved on. He won’t just stay put in a place he knows we can trace. It’s a dead end.”

Clint offered a regretful nod. “For the moment, yes. I’m sorry.

That’s all we got. But I thought you’d want to know.

” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Please don’t tell McNeill I told you.

He’s keeping some intel hush-hush, not wanting you two to get involved again.

But I owe it to you. You deserve the truth. ”

Finn and Amelia exchanged a glance. Finn’s chest felt tight with frustration. So close, yet still behind Wendell’s movements. “Thank you,” Finn said, meeting Clint’s gaze. “We appreciate it.”

Clint shifted from foot to foot. “I guess that’s all I can do. If anything changes, I’ll pass it on. But I can’t promise how soon.” He turned to go, but paused at the door, looking back. “Just—hang in there. Don’t lose faith.”

Amelia forced a nod, her voice thick. “Thanks.”

Clint slipped out, and the door clicked shut behind him. For a moment, neither Finn nor Amelia moved, the hush weighed down by the revelation: if Wendell had used that abandoned shopping center, he’d likely also relocated. Meanwhile, Brendan’s fate remained unknown.

Amelia rubbed her forehead. “If Brendan wasn’t there, that means Wendell either killed him or moved him somewhere else. We’re back to zero leads.” Her voice trembled with suppressed rage and grief.

Finn inhaled, searching for words. “We have to keep believing he’s alive. Wendell does these mind games—like with Kelvin Street—he wants to prolong your suffering. That might give Brendan some time.”

She stared at the drab carpeting. “I’m sick and tired of everyone telling me to hope for the best!

My hopes will die in this hotel room. I can’t do this, Finn.

I can’t wait like a prisoner while my brother might be tortured or…

or worse.” She lifted her gaze, eyes shining.

“McNeill can’t hold me. I’m not under official arrest, right? He can’t physically lock me in.”

He recognized the determination in her posture. “He placed us under protective custody. If you walk out, you’re going against direct instructions, but you’re free to do what you want. McNeill might have your job for this.”

She shook her head, tears reemerging. “Let him. He can fire me if it means my brother’s life. I’d never forgive myself for staying idle while Brendan is suffering. I have to do something.” She pivoted, one hand clenching around the handle of her small suitcase as though about to storm out.

Finn tried to reach for her arm. “Wait, Amelia, think about the risk. You saw what Wendell did to Rob. He nearly ended him. If you walk out, you’re practically offering yourself up.”

She turned, voice trembling but resolute.

“You said we can’t let fear rule us. Didn’t you also say we’d do anything for each other?

Then stand with me. Because I’m going to find my brother, or die trying.

If he moved Brendan, maybe it was somewhere near where he was.

It takes a lot to shift someone who is captive.

And if Wendell’s holed up near that deserted area, I’ll start there. ”

Finn studied her features, reading the fierce love that underpinned her every word. Her grief, frustration, guilt, all culminating in this unstoppable decision. He realized in that moment he had no power to hold her back. She’d run any gauntlet to reach her brother.

He swallowed, stepping to the door. He opened the door a crack, revealing the two constables on guard. Their conversation halted as he emerged partially into the hallway.

“Sorry, lads,” Finn said, forcing a casual grin that belied the tension coiled in his gut. “Looks like I’m taking my lady out tonight.”