Chapter 21 #2
Instantly one of my father’s men quickly moves toward me. He reaches for me and I can already see what he wants to do. He’s going to grab me and drag me away from Leo, back to my father’s home.
At the same time, my father raises his gun and points it directly at Leo’s head.
“He dies,” my father says flatly, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that tells me he’s going to enjoy this. “That’s non-negotiable, Emma. I’m taking you home.”
Everything happens at once.
Leo’s face twists with rage and he’s bringing his guns up, shouting something I can’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears. He’s probably telling me to get down, to move, to let him handle this.
Not happening.
My father is shouting too, ordering his man to get me out of here and drag me away by force if necessary.
Also not happening.
The man’s hand closes around my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises and he yanks me hard enough to nearly pull me off my feet, trying to drag me backward, away from Leo, toward the door.
Away from the man I love.
And something in me just…snaps.
All the fear, all the rage, all the desperate love I’ve been holding in for weeks—it all explodes outward in a single moment of pure instinct, coming back from the years of self-defense classes I was forced to take when I was a child and teenager.
“Every woman should know how to defend herself,” Dad had said, standing in the dojo watching me practice. “Especially a Brennan. You’re a target, Emma. Act like it.”
Thanks for the lesson, Dad. It’s coming in real handy right now.
I plant my left foot for balance and drive my right heel back hard right into the man’s balls, using my entire weight. I channel all my fury and fear into that single strike.
The impact is solid and immensely satisfying. The man makes a high-pitched strangled sound I’ve never heard a human make before. It’s like all the air has been punched out of him at once.
His grip on my arm releases instantly and hands go to his crotch, and he goes down like a sack of bricks, literally crumpling to the marble floor, curling into himself, gasping and wheezing.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me,” I snarl. Connor Brennan’s daughter doesn’t get grabbed and she definitely doesn’t get manhandled by anyone who wants to keep their balls intact.
The man on the floor is still gasping, tears streaming down his face, with his hands between his legs. I should probably feel bad about that.
I don’t.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
Then before anyone can react I step in front of Leo, making myself a human shield between him and the gun pointed at his head. I don’t think about it until I’m standing with my back to Leo’s chest, my arms spread wide, making myself as big a target as possible.
Making it impossible for my father to shoot Leo without shooting me first.
Behind me, Leo makes a strangled and horrified sound, like someone just tore a piece of him out of his body.
“Emma, no!” His hands grab my shoulders, grip tight, trying to pull me out of the way. “What are you—Emma, move! Move!”
But I dig my heels in—literally, pressing them into the marble floor for traction—and refuse to budge. I’m not as strong as Leo, but I have leverage and stubbornness on my side.
“Let me go, Leo.” I’m surprised at how calm I sound, like this is a perfectly reasonable thing I’m doing. “I’m not moving.”
“Emma, please—” His voice cracks and I can feel him shaking behind me, his hands tight on my shoulders, his chest pressed against my back. His ragged gasps are at my ear. “Please don’t do this; I’m begging you, just move out of the way and let me—”
“No,” I say firmly.
His grip on my shoulders tightens and for a second I think he’s going to physically lift me and move me aside.
He’s strong enough and could do it easily.
But he doesn’t. He’s frozen, caught between the instinct to protect me and the reality that moving me would put me in danger from my father’s gun.
I can practically feel the war raging inside him. The fury at me for putting myself at risk. The terror that my father might actually shoot. The desperate, overwhelming need to keep me safe warring with the reality that the only way to do that is to let me stay exactly where I am.
I look at my father and the gun that’s wavering now, pointing at me—at us—at the space where his daughter is standing in front of the man he wants to kill.
His face has gone from rage to shock to horror.
“If you want to shoot Leo,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake at all even though I am scared shitless, “you have to get through me first.”
“Emma,” my father pleads with me, the gun loose in his hand. “Emma, move out of the way. Please. I don’t want to hurt you, baby, I would never—just move and let me—”
“No.”
Dad’s face twists in anguish. “Baby, please.”
“I said no!” I shout. “I’m not moving! If you want to kill him, you’re going to have to kill me too!”
“You don’t mean that,” my father gasps, his face so, so pale, but his gun is wavering now, lowering slightly. “You’re just scared. You’re not thinking clearly. If you just—”
“I’ve never thought more clearly in my life,” I interrupt, and I take a step forward toward him and his gun.
“I love him, Dad. I love Leo Santoro and I’m staying with him and if you can’t accept that—if you’re so determined to kill him that you’d shoot through me to do it”—I pause, my throat constricting—“then go ahead.”
I spread my arms out again, making it impossible for him to hit Leo without hitting me first.
Behind me, Leo makes that strangled sound again. “Emma, for the love of god—”
“Shut up, Leo,” I retort, not taking my eyes off my father. “I’m handling this.”
My father is staring at me like he’s never seen me before. It’s like I’m a stranger. His gun is still raised but it’s shaking now, his hand trembling.
“You’re willing to die for him?” he asks so quietly I almost don’t hear it. “You’re willing to let me kill you rather than leave him?”
“I’m willing to stand between you and the man I love,” I correct, my heart beating so fast I’m surprised it’s not pulsating out of my chest. “You taught me to stand up for what I believe in and to protect the people I care about. You told me to never back down when something matters.”
“I didn’t teach you to be stupid,” he snaps.
“No,” I agree, dipping my head briefly. “You taught me to be strong. And that’s what I’m doing.”
We stare at each other across the destroyed hall. Father and daughter. Two people who love each other and are about to destroy each other anyway.
Leo is still behind me, holding my shoulders. I can practically feel the waves of fury and fear rolling off him.
But I don’t move.
“Emma, please,” my father whispers, his eyes glassy. “Please don’t make me choose between you and—”
“You don’t have to choose,” I say gently, wondering if I’ve finally gotten through to my father. “You just have to accept my choice. Accept that I’m staying with Leo. That I’m happy here. But even if you don’t believe me, there’s something else.”
I take a breath. This is it. The final card. The one thing that might make him understand. Might make him stop. Or it might make everything so much worse.
But I have to try. I have to give him a reason—any reason—to put down the gun and walk away.
“If you shoot Leo—if you kill him—you’re not just taking away the man I love. You’re taking away my child’s father.”
I swallow hard past the lump in my throat before I can continue.
“And if you shoot through me to get to him then you’ll be killing your grandchild.”