Chapter 21
EMMA
The word rips out of me, loud and commanding and furious, echoing through the destroyed hall.
And it works.
Both of them freeze. Actually they freeze mid-motion, like someone hit pause on a movie. Leo’s fingers are still on the triggers, but he’s not pulling. My father’s gun is still raised, but he’s not firing. They’re both just…stopped.
And staring at me.
For a second—one perfect, crystalline second—no one moves. No one breathes. The entire world narrows down to this moment, this room and us.
I can see the exact moment they register who I am. What I am. That I’m here.
Leo’s eyes go wide. His face cycles through shock to confusion before landing on fury.
My father’s face does something similar but in reverse. Relief first—his daughter is alive, is standing, is okay—then confusion—why does she have cuts and burns on her—then rage.
At Leo.
Then my father takes a step toward me, his gun lowering slightly. “Emma! Get away from him! Get away from him right now!”
His voice is ragged and it’s nothing like the controlled man who raised me. Connor Brennan doesn’t lose his cool or show weakness. He doesn’t let emotion cloud his judgment.
This man is seconds from falling apart.
“Emma, what the hell are you doing here?” Leo’s voice cuts through, sharp and furious.
“I told you to stay in the panic room! How did you even—” His eyes rake over me, taking in my bloody hands, my torn clothes, the cuts on my arms. “Did you break out?” He blinks at me, in clear disbelief. “How the fuck did you break out?”
I turn to look at him and something about the genuine shock on his face—like he can’t believe I actually got out of his fancy security system—makes me want to laugh. Or maybe punch him. Possibly both.
“What can I say, Leo?” I say sarcastically. “Turns out locking me in a steel box just pisses me off and makes me really motivated to escape.” I shrug. “Who knew?”
He’s still gaping at me, his brown eyes wide with shock.
“Also, your panic room security is shit,” I add, because I really do love twisting the proverbial knife. “I only needed medical scissors. You should really invest in a better system.”
Leo comes back to himself and scowls at me. “This isn’t fucking funny.”
“You think I’m joking?” I gesture at my hands, covered in cuts and bruises. “I tore apart your locking mechanism with my bare hands because you decided to play the overprotective mob boss card. So no, Leo, I don’t take orders from you. Not about this. Not about anything.”
“I was trying to keep you safe!” Leo snaps, and there’s genuine fury in his eyes now. “You could have been killed!”
“And you could have been killed while I was locked in that goddamn room!” I shout back. “What was I supposed to do? Sit there and wait?”
I start walking forward into the space between them.
The bodies are everywhere. I step over Antonio—gap-toothed Antonio who made terrible jokes. Dead. I step around James—poker-playing James who always had a deck of cards in his pocket. Dead. Two of my father’s men whose names I should know but don’t. Also dead.
This is what happens in our world. People die. It’s not pretty, it’s not noble, it’s just business gone wrong. I’ve known that since I was old enough to understand what my father actually did for a living.
But it doesn’t make it easier to look at.
But I don’t flinch or cry because Connor Brennan’s daughter doesn’t fall apart. Ever.
I position myself between them, equidistant from both, my back to neither. My feet are planted wide for balance on the blood-slicked marble, and the gun is still in my hand. I raise it, not pointing at anyone, just holding it up so they can both see it.
It’s a reminder. I know how to use this. I know where to aim. And I will if I have to.
I can smell the blood and nearly taste it in the air, copper and iron coating my tongue. I can feel it beneath my shoes, warm and sticky.
This is what loving Leo Santoro costs. This is what choosing him means.
And I’m still choosing him.
“Emma, move!” My father’s voice cracks on the word, like something inside him is breaking. “Move right now! I’m taking you home!”
“I am home,” I say.
My father’s face goes white. Actually white, like all the blood just drained out of it in a single horrible rush. His gun wavers slightly and for a second I think he might drop it and crumple to the floor and give up entirely.
I’ve never seen my father look like this. I’ve never seen him look so…broken. So lost.
And I did this to him. Me. His daughter. The guilt is crushing. Absolutely crushing.
“What?” The word is barely a whisper. “Emma girl, no. No, you don’t mean that. You can’t—this isn’t—he’s—”
He’s trying to find words and failing. Connor Brennan, who always has the right words, who can negotiate billion-dollar deals and convince anyone of anything, can’t find the words to convince his only child to come home.
Because there are no words. Nothing he can say will change my mind.
“I do mean it.” I hate how my voice is wavering. I can feel tears burning behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. “Dad, I—”
I take a breath and force myself to keep looking at him even though it hurts. Even though seeing the devastation on his face is killing me.
I look at my father. Connor Brennan. The man who built an empire from nothing and expected me to fit into it perfectly. Who was always too busy for school events, too busy for bedtime stories, too busy for anything that wasn’t business.
But he taught me other things. How to read people. How to negotiate. How to be strong even when I wanted to be soft and never show weakness, never back down, never let anyone think they could control me, other than him or the husband he chose for me.
But I let no one control me.
And I’m about to break his heart. I’m going to shatter it into a million fucking pieces and there’s no way to make it hurt less or soften the blow. There’s no way to make this easier for either of us.
But I can’t lie to him and let him think there’s still a chance I’ll come home with him. Giving him false hope would be crueler than the truth.
“I’m staying with Leo, Dad.” The words feel like they’re being ripped out of my chest, taking pieces of me with them. “I love him.”
The silence that follows is worse than any shouting could be. It’s complete, absolute, deafening silence.
Then my father explodes.
“Love him?” His voice is a roar, echoing off the destroyed walls, vibrating through the floor beneath my feet.
“He kidnapped you! He took you from your wedding! He kept you here against your will!” His face is now nearly purple and for a moment, I’m genuinely afraid he’s going to have a heart attack.
“He—he brainwashed you, Emma! He manipulated you and made you think—”
“He gave me a choice!” I shout back, and I’m not calm anymore.
The dam has broken and everything is pouring out.
I’m so fucking tired of everyone trying to decide what’s best for me without asking what I want.
“Yes, he took my choice away at first! Yes, he kidnapped me and kept me here and I hated him for it! I was terrified and angry and I wanted to kill him! But things have changed. I’m choosing to stay. ”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” my father says angrily. “You’re confused and scared. Emma, he’s done something to you psychologically to make you think you want this when really—”
“I know exactly what I’m saying!” My hands are shaking so badly the gun is wobbling and I have to lower it before I drop it. “I’m not confused or scared! And I’m not brainwashed or whatever else you want to call it to make yourself feel better about losing control of me!”
The words are harsh and cruel, but they’re true and we both know it.
My father flinches like I’ve slapped him.
“Losing control—” he starts, but his voice breaks. “Emma, I-I never wanted to control you. I wanted to protect you. To keep you safe from people like—like him.”
He points beyond me at Leo without looking at him. “People who would use you. Hurt you. Take advantage of you.”
“He’s not using me,” I say, softer now because it’s killing me to see my father struggle.
“He’s not hurting me. Dad, I know you can’t see it.
I know all you see is the man who took me.
” I glance back at Leo, whose face is impassive.
“But that’s not who he is anymore. That’s not—he changed. We changed. Together.”
“He’s a criminal,” my father says flatly. “A killer. A monster who runs an empire built on blood and violence. And you want me to…to just accept that you’re in love with him? That you’re choosing him over your own family?” He shakes his head in disbelief.
The hypocrisy is so thick I could choke on it.
“And you’re what, Dad?” I shoot back, irritated with him. “A saint? You run the same kind of empire. You’ve killed people. You killed his brother, which is why this whole thing started! So don’t stand there and act like Leo’s some kind of monster when you’re exactly the same!”
My father’s face goes red. “That was business—”
“And this is my life!” I interrupt. “You don’t get to judge him for being exactly what you are. You don’t get to pretend you’re better than him when you’ve done the same things, if not worse.”
“Because he’s—” My father takes a deep breath, clearly at war with himself. “Because he took you from me, Emma. He stole you. And now you’re telling me you’re glad he did?” Dad shakes his head, in disbelief. “You’re telling me you want to stay with the man who destroyed your life.”
“He didn’t destroy my life,” I say, willing my father to understand me for once. “He gave me a different one. And I like this life, Dad. I like who I am here.”
“No,” my father says firmly. “No, I won’t accept that. I won’t let him keep you.”
His face goes from devastated to determined in a heartbeat. The Connor Brennan I know—the man who never accepts defeat—resurfaces.
He snaps his fingers.