Chapter 68

They skidded into the departures loop like the car was an extension of their panic. Tires screeched as Changbin slammed the brakes just shy of the curb outside Terminal 1. The hazard lights flashed red against the rain-slicked pavement, but he didn't care about legality or timing. He threw the gear into park and left the engine running.

Beth was out of the car before the seatbelt retracted.

The door slammed behind her, barely catching on the latch. She didn't wait for him. Didn't breathe. Didn't pause. She just ran—barefoot in her slides, hair soaked and plastered to her face, sling askew, every inch of her trembling with rage and terror.

"Beth—wait!" Changbin called after her, grabbing their phones and sprinting to catch up. He should've stopped her. Should've been in front. But she was already through the automatic doors and into the airport before he cleared the hood of the car.

Inside, the terminal was caught in the quiet suspension of early morning. Just before the rush. Just before the chaos. The air smelled like bleach and cheap coffee. A few scattered travelers slumped in chairs near the windows, neck pillows lopsided and bags curled under their feet. The glow of the departures board lit the check-in area in sterile blue light. A cleaner wiped down the floor near a shuttered bakery, his headphones in, unaware.

Beth's eyes scanned the board like she was looking down a rifle scope.

New York. Seattle. Chicago. San Francisco. Los Angeles.

Her chest heaved. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Any of them. He could be on any of them.

She turned and bolted toward the nearest counter.

"Excuse me—excuse me," she said, breath catching, voice high and urgent as she leaned over the Korean Air desk. "My daughter. My five-year-old daughter may have just been taken by her father—he's not supposed to have her, he's barred from custody. He has her passport. He's American. You need to check your manifest—please, her name is Cassidy Anders. His is Henry Anders."

The woman behind the desk stared for half a second before the urgency registered. Her eyes widened.

"Has this been reported to security?" she asked, switching seamlessly into English.

"Yes," Changbin said, arriving just behind Beth, his voice tight with barely contained panic. "The Korean National Police are on their way. They told us to come here immediately."

The agent nodded. Her fingers were already flying across the keyboard, the click of keys rapid-fire. She grabbed the phone and barked something in fast, clipped Korean, urgency radiating from her shoulders. A second agent appeared at her side. Then a third. One peeled off to speak to a uniformed staffer in a bright yellow vest.

Within seconds, a tall man in a navy airport security vest jogged up behind the counter, his face drawn tight with urgency. He motioned for them both to follow, gesturing sharply toward a side gate with a gloved hand, his other hand tapping at the comm unit in his ear as voices crackled faintly from within.

"We are locking down the international terminals now," he said, breath clipped, his accent sharp and clear over the noise. "The passport has been flagged. If he is here, we will find him. Come—now."

Beth didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mouth was dry, her lungs shallow and aching. Her body was moving—she was aware of that, vaguely—but it felt like she was wading through molasses, every stride heavier than the last, like gravity had doubled. Her legs carried her forward out of muscle memory, instinct—nothing more. The pain in her shoulder had returned with a vengeance, sharp and jarring every time the sling jostled across her ribs, but it was distant, irrelevant.

She couldn't feel anything but the drumbeat of her heart. Couldn't see anything but the phantom flickers of Cassie's face—her smile, her freckles, her soft curls bouncing when she ran, her tiny sneakers with the sparkly laces. Her daughter. Her child.

A crackle of static exploded from the officer's walkie, sharp and urgent. He jerked it to his mouth, listened for a beat, then turned on his heel, eyes locking onto Beth's with sudden clarity.

"Gate 17," he said. His voice was no longer calm. It was sharp now—decisive, clipped like a bullet. "Male subject matching description. With minor child. Ticketed for Flight 157 to Los Angeles. Passport was flagged at boarding pass scan. Officers on site now. Attempting detainment."

Beth didn't think. There was no moment of hesitation, no flash of doubt. Her body snapped into motion like a gunshot. She ran.

She barreled past a woman pushing a stroller, ducked around a man dragging a suitcase, shouldered through a crowd of confused passengers shouting in surprise. Voices chased her—people yelling for her to stop, guards demanding identification—but none of it touched her. Her mind had locked onto one thing. One destination. One child.

Her baby was at Gate 17.

Her feet pounded the polished airport floor in a brutal, driving rhythm. Her boots hammered like gunfire, each impact jarring her entire frame, her sling tugging at her shoulder with every jolt. Pain screamed down her arm, tore through her collarbone, but she didn't slow. Couldn't. Her breath was a series of shattered gasps, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream like a drug she couldn't refuse.

"Ma'am! Ma'am, you can't go back there—!"

Security officers shouted behind her. She heard Changbin's voice too—sharp, panicked—cutting through the chaos, calling her name. Another voice joined his, a woman, barking something about restricted access, about protocol.

None of it mattered.

None of it was louder than the sound of her daughter's name echoing in her skull like a war drum. Cassie. Cassie. Cassie.

Beth tore down the terminal hallway like something half-feral, her boots slamming the floor in a rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest. Her breath came in ragged gasps, too sharp, too fast, tearing at her throat like glass. Every fluorescent light overhead burned her eyes. Every footstep on the polished tile echoed like gunshots in her skull. She didn't feel her shoulder. She didn't feel the pain. All she felt was heat—rage and terror mixing until her whole body was ablaze, powered by a singular instinct that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with blood.

The gate numbers blurred past in streaks of sterile neon—13, 14, 15—each one a punch to the ribs, each one slamming her heart harder against her spine. The terminal was too bright. Too slow. Too clean. And she was breaking apart with every step.

Then she saw it.

Gate 17.

A knot of motion cut through the blur, sharp and sudden. Two security officers stood just beyond the boarding checkpoint, their bodies tense, locked in confrontation with a man—tall, white, familiar. Henry. His posture was defensive, coiled and twitching with barely leashed irritation. His mouth was moving rapidly, tone raised, laced with performative outrage. He gestured with one hand as if trying to explain something reasonable, something dismissible, something legal.

But it was the other hand that stopped Beth cold.

Because in it—gripped tightly like luggage he had every right to claim—was a small, pink backpack. And from the zipper dangled a chain of glittery sea creatures. A dolphin. A whale. A green turtle.

Cassie's backpack.

Beth's lungs convulsed. Her whole body locked for one fraction of a second—just long enough to recognize the impossible.

"CASSIE!" Her scream tore from her throat like a battle cry, ripping down the terminal like a detonation. "CASSIE!"

The child turned at once.

Small. Blonde. Wide-eyed.

She was clutching Gomi the turtle so tight the little stuffed flipper was bent backward. Her mouth fell open, stunned for a heartbeat, and then the air filled with the raw, piercing shriek of a child in terror and relief.

"Mommy!"

Beth didn't remember moving. The space between that scream and her impact was a blur of motion and noise—airports and people and security and adrenaline blending into a singular roar in her ears. One second she was ten feet away. The next, she was slamming into Henry's side with the full force of every ounce of fury she had left in her.

He staggered, unprepared, one foot slipping just enough to throw him off balance. His mouth twisted in shock as he fell sideways into the arms of one of the security officers, who immediately seized him by the collar.

Beth didn't look back.

Cassie launched into her arms like a magnet pulled her there, her tiny body curling instantly into Beth's chest with shaking limbs and gasping sobs. Beth dropped to her knees, wrapping both arms around her daughter, not caring about the pain in her shoulder or the burn of the tile against her knees or the growing chaos around them. All that mattered was this—her arms around her baby. Her child's sobs against her neck. The warm, living weight of the girl she'd feared she'd never hold again.

"Mommy, he said you didn't want me," Cassie choked, her voice cracking through the tears. "He said we were going back to his house—he said—he lied—he lied—!"

Beth's heart shattered. She pressed her face into Cassie's hair, breathed her in, clutched her tighter, so tight it felt like she could fuse them together.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice shaking with everything she hadn't said. "I'm here, baby. I've got you. I've got you. You're safe. He's never taking you again. I swear to God, he's never—he's never—"

A sudden movement flashed at the edge of her vision.

Henry lunged.

Beth barely had time to react.

His hand shot out and tangled in her hair, fisting it cruelly at the roots. She screamed—short, raw, instinctive—as he yanked her backward with the strength of a man unhinged. Her spine arched with the force of it, her knees skidding painfully against the tile as her grip on Cassie was torn loose.

Cassie shrieked—high and piercing—the kind of sound that split the air like a siren. She reached after Beth with frantic little hands, her sobs turning panicked, broken.

"Mommy! MOMMY!"

Beth hit the floor hard, her injured shoulder screaming as she twisted away on instinct. But Henry was already on her.

His knees pinned her lower body. His hands found her throat.

It wasn't sloppy.

It was intentional.

Deliberate.

Cold.

His fingers dug in hard, knuckles white with pressure, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Her airway constricted in a flash of white-hot agony. Her legs kicked reflexively. Her good hand clawed at his arm. Her vision started to spot.

"Fucking bitch," he hissed, eyes wild, spittle flying from his lips. "You think you can take her from me? You think you can erase me?"

Beth gurgled—tried to scream, to fight, to buck him off—but the strength was leaving her limbs. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her body thrashed, desperate for air, for control, for one more moment—

And then—

Chaos.

A body slammed into Henry's side like a freight train.

Changbin.

He tackled him with enough force to send both of them sprawling across the floor, Henry's hands ripping free of Beth's throat as he went flying. The two men hit the tile hard, and Henry let out a winded grunt as Changbin landed on top of him with unrelenting fury.

Cassie ran to Beth, still sobbing.

Beth coughed violently, rolling to her side, gasping for air as her hand flew protectively to her daughter's back. Her throat ached. Her shoulder was on fire. Her entire body shook. But she was conscious. Alive. Breathing.

Security was screaming now—officers swarming.

"Hands where we can see them!"

"GET DOWN!"

"Step away—now!"

Beth couldn't see clearly—her eyes were flooded with tears—but she heard the scuffle as Changbin slammed Henry's head into the floor and pinned his arm back at an angle that made him shriek. There was fury in his voice, sharp and guttural, barking orders in Korean at the guards who finally reached them and helped wrestle Henry's arms behind his back.

Just as the handcuffs clamped down on Henry's wrists and security forced him upright, Cassie turned in Beth's arms. Her cheeks were blotchy and tearstreaked, eyes wide and rimmed with red. Her little chest heaved with every breath, the sobs still wracking her shoulders. But she looked up—past Beth, past the blur of uniforms and strangers—and saw Changbin.

Her entire body lit up.

"Daddy!" she cried, and tore herself out of Beth's arms like the word had wings. "Daddy!"

Beth froze.

So did Henry.

Cassie launched straight into Changbin's arms like she'd been waiting a lifetime to get there. He caught her automatically, stunned, crouching low to wrap her up against his chest. His arms folded tight around her back, holding her like she was the only real thing in the world.

"I've got you, baby," he murmured, pressing his face into her hair. "You're okay. You're safe. I've got you."

Henry's face twisted into something primal. Something rotten and furious and unbearable.

"What did you call him?" he spat, his voice sharp and sick with venom. "What the fuck did you just call him?!"

Cassie turned her face away, clutching harder to Changbin's shirt.

Henry lost what little composure he had left.

He lunged again—body jerking forward so violently it took two security officers to hold him. His face was purple with rage, his whole body shaking with the effort of trying to break free.

"You think he's your father?! I'm your father! I gave you your fucking name—!"

The sound that left Beth wasn't a scream.

It was lower than that. Older.

A sound born from every sleepless night, every bruised memory, every time she'd held her daughter through sobs and tantrums and terror. From the moment she'd first read the words "emergency custody" and realized it might never be enough. From the hallway. From the floor. From the scar on her shoulder and the bruise forming on her throat.

She stood like a storm rising from the sea.

And then she moved.

She didn't think. Didn't aim. Didn't hesitate.

She stepped forward and drove her fist directly into Henry's face.

The sound was sickening—a wet, cracking thud as her knuckles collided with bone. Pain shot through her arm like lightning, exploding up her injured shoulder, detonating every nerve ending in her body. Her vision went white at the edges. She screamed through her teeth, not from fear—but from the searing agony of impact, the roar of pain that followed. It was like plunging her arm into fire.

But Henry's head snapped back—and then he dropped.

The officers caught him before he hit the ground, but he was out cold, his body slack, blood already dripping from his split lip.

Beth cradled her injured arm against her ribs, staggering slightly from the effort. Her body trembled, the aftershock of adrenaline making her vision swim. But she didn't fall. Didn't back down. She stood there, panting, glaring at the unconscious man who had once tried to claim her daughter like property.

"Fucking asshole," she hissed, voice hoarse and shaking, "I want him charged with every law he just broke."

No one moved for a long, terrible second.

Then the silence cracked.

Cassie's voice broke through, soft and small, muffled by Changbin's chest. "Mommy?"

Beth turned. She dropped to her knees again, this time slower, her body moving like it was underwater. "I'm here," she rasped, her good hand reaching for Cassie. "I'm right here."

Cassie sobbed into the collar of her shirt, tiny fingers fisting the fabric like she thought it might disappear if she loosened her grip. "You came. You really came. I was so scared."

Beth buried her face in the crown of her daughter's hair, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of strawberry shampoo and sweat and tears. Her hand shook as she curled it around Cassie's back. Her throat ached from the pressure of Henry's hands. Her arm screamed with every heartbeat. Her knees stung from the cold tile.

But Cassie was here.

Whole. Breathing.

Her heart.

Her baby.

"I'll always come for you," Beth whispered, voice ragged and low, lips pressed to Cassie's temple. "I don't care where, I don't care how. I will always find you."

Behind them, Henry groaned.

The officers were hauling him up, dragging his dead weight toward a side exit as more security and police poured into the terminal. One of them muttered into his shoulder radio, likely requesting a medical check before transport. Another was already bagging the shredded passport pieces Changbin had retrieved earlier from Henry's duffel.

Changbin stood nearby, arms locked tight across his chest, jaw clenched like steel. His knuckles were scraped, his shirt stained with sweat and grime and a smudge of Cassie's tears. But his eyes never left them. He was watching—watching them like he was still bracing for the moment it might all vanish again.

Beth caught his gaze.

Held it.

She didn't look away.

Couldn't.

Not from him.

Not from the man who had chased her through the worst night of her life without question. Who had taken a beating in her place. Who had carried Cassie like his own daughter and fought like hell to bring her home. The man whose eyes still burned with the force of everything he couldn't say—because he didn't want to crowd the moment. Because he was giving her space to breathe.

But Beth didn't want space.

Not from him.

She rose slowly to her feet, her knees trembling beneath her, arm still cradled against her side like it might shatter if she let go. Cassie clung to her good hip, face buried in her side, hiccupping softly now, exhausted.

Beth reached for Changbin with her free hand. Just a touch. Just enough to tether.

His face cracked the second she touched him.

"Are you—" His voice broke and he had to start again. "Are you okay?"

"No," she said, without blinking. "But you're here."

And then she stepped into him.

There wasn't a plan. There wasn't time to think. Just her hand on the back of his neck and her lips on his—mouths colliding in a desperate, wrecked, grateful kiss that tasted like blood and salt and everything they hadn't been able to say until now. His hands fumbled for her waist and pulled her close, one palm sliding protectively over Cassie's shoulder where she was curled between them, as if anchoring the whole family together.

Voices surged around them—gasping, whispering, phones coming up to film, someone saying something in Korean that sounded stunned.

They didn't care.

Beth kissed him like she'd forgotten how not to. Like the terror of losing everything had left her with nothing but the instinct to hold him tighter. To memorize the shape of him. The scent. The weight.

She broke the kiss only when her lungs ached.

Her forehead stayed pressed to his. Her voice was barely audible.

"I love you."

She didn't mean to say it. Not like this. Not in a terminal soaked in fluorescent lights and trauma. But the words fell out of her like a truth she'd been carrying for miles. Like a relief.

She opened her eyes to find him already crying.

Not hard. Not sobbing. But tears welled in the corners of his eyes like they'd been waiting too long to fall.

"Say it again," he whispered.

Her throat ached, but she smiled anyway.

"I love you."

His lips curved. Then broke apart in a soundless laugh. His arms crushed her to him with Cassie safely in between, his body shaking now with the weight of the moment.

"I love you too," he said, his voice rough with everything he couldn't soften. "God, Beth, I love you."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Cassie peeked up between them, blinking slowly, her little voice soft.

"Are we gonna be a family now?"

Beth looked down at her.

Tears spilled over.

Changbin knelt without letting go, brushing a hand across Cassie's damp curls.

"We already are."

And for the first time in hours—maybe longer—Beth let herself believe it. Right there on the floor of Gate 17. Among the chaos. The sirens. The strangers filming. The blood on her lip and the fire in her shoulder and the smudge of jelly from Cassie's snack still clinging to her shirt.

She was a mother.

He was hers.

They were safe.

And they were a family now.