30. Chapter Thirty Abby

Chapter Thirty: Abby

I didn’t want to talk to my dad, but I knew it was necessary.

Ever since I’d gotten his help to contact Nathan, I’d stayed MIA–because I couldn’t bear to face his sense of justice. I’d shot a cop. Someone just like him . Even if he didn’t trust Hayes, even if she was the villain in my story…

…what if she had a family? What if I was the bad guy here?

The shades of grey in my life were looking more like pitch black every day.

I pressed the power button on my phone, watching the screen flicker to life, and a heavy sigh escaped me. Dad had to be going out of his mind by now. I could picture him pacing, his greying hair a disheveled mess, as he fielded call after call about…fuck, I didn’t even know what about. By this point, he would have heard something–about Hayes, maybe even about our little riot and prison break. I owed him an explanation, but the thought of adding to his worry twisted my gut into tight knots.

"Come on, Abby, just do it," I muttered to myself, thumb hovering over the call button.

But I hesitated.

The last thing I wanted was for Dad to hear his daughter had been part of something that went against everything he stood for.

I slid down one of the pillars of the warehouse until I was sitting on the cool concrete, the phone clutched in both hands. I was worried he wouldn't understand, couldn't understand, why I made the choices I did. It wasn't just about the Bureau or the job—it was personal, it was about my family.

After all those years talking a big game about justice, I’d broken bad.

Nathan and our baby were more important than anything else.

"Sorry, Dad," I whispered into the stale air of the garage, wrestling with the choice I held in my hands. I couldn't risk his peace of mind, not when my own was so frayed–right? I couldn't bear the disappointment that would inevitably lace his voice, the stern concern that would remind me too much of my childhood.. No, it was better to keep him in the dark, just a little longer.

I looked at the phone and told myself to get a grip.

No…he had to know the truth. And he had to hear it from my lips.

The phone felt like a brick in my hand, heavy with all the things left unsaid. I couldn’t even look at the screen–unanswered calls, unread text messages. I knew I'd have to face the music eventually, explain why his daughter, trained by him to uphold the law, had seemingly turned her back on it. But not now, not while the night was still raw with recent events and my nerves were stripped bare.

"Be careful, Sprout," I could almost hear him say, the same protective phrase he'd utter every time I stepped out of our home. It was meant to comfort me, but in this moment, it only emphasized the peril I was in—a danger he was blissfully unaware of, a situation he couldn't assist with.

My fingers waltzed over the keypad, pausing momentarily before dialing his number.

"Abby, what's happening? Are you alright?" The voice on the other end wasn't the gentle tone of my father; it bore the grit and fatigue of an officer who had spent too many nights submerged in the muck of criminality.

"Dad," I responded, surprised at how stable my voice sounded, "I'm okay."

“Good,” he said. “Now tell me, what the hell is going on?”

"Nothing I can't handle," I lied through my teeth, because the truth felt like a tangled mess I couldn't afford to unravel over an insecure line. My words were swift, clipped with the precision of someone who'd been trained to report just the facts. But beneath that veneer of control, a shiver of fear danced down my spine.

"Abby," he said, "you don't sound okay."

I pressed the phone tighter against my ear, as if by doing so I could bridge the physical distance and draw strength from his presence. "It's been a long night," I admitted, allowing him a glimpse of my vulnerability. "But I'm safe, Dad. That's what matters."

"Safe doesn't have much currency when you're in the company of snakes," he retorted. “You’re with them, aren’t you?”

With them? I suppressed the urge to let out a manic laugh. I wasn’t just with them; I was one of them . "Just… trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing."

There was a pause, heavy and burdened with the things left unsaid between us. I could picture him there, the furrow of his brow deepening with worry. He had taught me everything I knew, yet here I was, keeping secrets and walking a path he couldn't follow.

"Alright, honey," he finally said, his voice strained but laced with an undercurrent of faith. "I trust you."

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling the weight of his trust anchoring me amidst the storm of my own doubts.

“But now that you’re on the phone, I have questions, and I need you to answer them.”

Great.

"Abigail Harper, what in God's name were you thinking?" His tone was like a slap across the face, every word laced with a cocktail of anger and worry. "An agent is injured because of this stunt. I taught you better than this."

I pressed the phone harder to my ear, as if that could somehow lessen the distance between us or the sting of his words. “Hayes is alive? And she was found?”

“Yes, she’s alive,” he replied. “Did you think…wait, you knew she was hurt?”

“I knew,” I said, feeling a little bit of tension ease from my shoulders at the fact that he didn’t know I was the one who shot her. That meant I was off the hook for now–and that she was out of the picture, at least at present. “I’m glad she’s alive. Will she be okay?”

“You better hope so,” he replied.

The urge to cry was swelling up inside me, a knot forming in my throat. I hated disappointing him, yet here I was, definitely disappointing him.

"I'm sorry," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. The admission tasted like ash in my mouth. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"Sorry doesn't patch up a wound, Abby." There was a pause, and I could almost see his hand raking through his hair in frustration. "Where are you now?"

I hesitated, my gaze flicking around. This place was well-hidden–an old shipping warehouse, from the looks of it, under an unused lighthouse. We had to be hours from San Francisco at this point. "I can't tell you that, Dad." My voice was steady now, but it was a facade, brittle and ready to crack.

"Damn it, Abigail!" His disappointment was fierce, intense. I could practically feel it over the phone.. "You're playing with fire. You know that, don't you? You’re betraying the Bureau, you’re in with dangerous people. I don’t know how many times we need to have this conversation. I know that you explained some things when you told me about your current…condition. But you’re doing some dangerous shit, and I’m worried about you. I can’t protect you from all of this."

I swallowed hard, nodding even though he couldn't see me.

"Listen to me, Dad." My voice was firm, even as I paced the narrow garage, phone pressed to my ear. "I didn't betray the Bureau. This isn't about that.”

"Then what is it about?" he shot back, his voice a sharp crack in the stillness of the dawn.

"It's about family," I said, my heart pounding with an urgency that left little room for doubt. "It's always been about family."

"Family?" Owen's voice softened, but the edge remained. "I am your family, Abby."

"Of course, you are," I replied quickly, feeling the sting of tears again. "But Nathan…he is too."

There was a heavy silence on the line, as if he was weighing my words, measuring them against some hidden scale only he could see.

"Are you talking about loyalty now?" he asked, skepticism oozing from every syllable. "Where do your loyalties truly lie, Abigail?"

I stopped pacing, taking a deep breath that did little to calm the fluttering in my chest. It felt like standing at the edge of a precipice, the ground uncertain beneath my feet.

"Daddy," I began, and I heard him grunt—a prompt to continue. "As you know by now, my loyalty," I said, each word etched with a conviction that came from somewhere deep within, "lies with my child."

“I know, but Abby--”

"Then you also know," I continued, “that I'll do whatever it takes to protect them."

The cold whispers of dawn brushed against my skin as I clutched the phone tighter, trying to brace myself for what came next. His voice softened just a fraction, and that small change felt like an anchor in the chaos.

“I know, but that’s why I’m so concerned–”

“Dad–”

“No, let me finish, Sprout. You need to keep yourself safe," he said, and his words were laced with an understanding that surprised me. "You're right. You’re carrying your child. That's what matters most now. You have to be safe so your baby is safe.”

I didn’t need to hear that from him; I knew I needed to keep my baby safe, but I also wasn’t some fragile flower. I’d fought myself out of more than a few life-threatening situations at this point, and they weren’t going to stop.

And with all the questions he’d had for me…there was one I had for him, too.

Because when I’d sent him to talk to Nathan at the county jail, I’d asked him to do one thing. To tell Nathan that I was pregnant, to give him hope for our future together. But somehow, despite my wishes, Nathan hadn’t known when I broke him out.

I cleared my throat, my voice quiet as I asked, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

I could tell from the silence that my dad already knew what I was asking…but he played dumb, just like he had when we had disagreements when I was growing up. “What are you talking about?”

“Why didn’t you tell Nathan I was pregnant?”

I heard him swallow, sigh. There was rustling on the other line, and I figured he must have gotten up to pace.

“Because I was still hoping you’d get out,” he finally said. “Come back with me to Boston. Leave this all behind.”

“I’m never going to leave him–”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “Sprout…you scare the hell out of me. You drive me fucking crazy. Being your dad is rough sometimes.”

I tried not to let that get to me, not to let it hurt.

“But goddamn it, I’m still in,” he said. “I’ll keep protecting you, no matter what. You just make the call, and I’m there…come hell or high water.”

I bit my lip, holding back tears. Shit . I’d never cried this much in my whole life, and this baby was making everything harder. But at least I had the Vipers…at least I had the Zhou siblings, and I had Nathan back now.

And I had my dad, too.

“I won’t go so long without calling again,” I whispered. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Sprout,” he said. “Now go kick some ass, okay?”

“Okay,” I laughed, and then I hung up.

We were fractured, yes, but we were all together now. And once we’d gotten rid of Kenny, we could make this world safe for my child.