Chapter 37 #4
I took a step toward Peter, who actually flinched back into his seat.
"It is your loss," I hissed. "You could have had a sister who loved you, but you chose a patron you could bleed dry.
Well, the bank is closed. Get out of our house now, or I swear on my life, I will drag you out by your ears and dump you on the pavement. "
The room was fucking paralysed. Even Carrie had gone completely still, her eyes fixed on me with an expression of raw, shocked wonder.
I turned my gaze to Richard, who looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floorboards.
I pointed a finger inches from his nose.
"And you? Don't even think about slinking back to the guest wing. Go upstairs, pack what little you actually own, and run after them. If you’re not out that door in five minutes, I will personally kick you every single step of the way to the front gate. Move!"
The sheer, feral energy coming off me was enough to break the spell.
Carol scurried to her feet, clutching her handbag to her chest, her face pale.
Martin sputtered, but seeing the way I was hovering over him, ready to follow through, he finally stood, grabbing Peter’s arm, whose wife was already on the move.
"Fine!" Martin shouted, though his voice cracked. "If this is how you treat your own blood, Caroline, then don't come crying to us when—"
"Get. Out," Carrie said, her voice finally returning—not as a whisper, but as a cold, final command that echoed off the marble.
They scrambled. It was a fucking pathetic, undignified exit.
I heard Richard clattering up the stairs in a blind panic while the others stumbled toward the front door.
The sound of the heavy oak door slamming shut echoed through the house, followed a few minutes later by the frantic sound of Richard’s footsteps and the final, definitive click of the latch.
Silence fell over the kitchen. It was heavy, ringing in my ears after the shouting. My heart was thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird, and my hands were still fucking shaking with adrenaline.
I stood there, chest heaving, until I felt Carrie move. She walked around the island, her steps slow, until she was standing right in front of me.
For a long, agonising moment, Carrie just stood there. She didn't move; she just stared at me, her eyes raking over my face as if she was seeing me for the very first time.
Her chest heaved once, twice, and then her "Dr. Carter" mask—the one she had worn like a fucking lead suit for years—dropped with a thud. Her bottom lip trembled, and the iron-straight line of her shoulders collapsed.
"Alex," she whispered. Her voice was paper-thin, stripped of all its authority.
She took that final step, closing the distance between us, and reached out. Her hands were shaking as she cupped my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. She looked at me with an intensity that was almost fucking painful, her eyes searching mine with a raw, desperate gratitude.
"No one," she choked out, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "In my entire life... no one has ever stood up for me like that. Not once. I have been the one standing in front of everyone else since I was sixteen years old."
She let out a broken, shuddering laugh, her forehead dropping to rest against mine. "You're half my size and you looked like you were going to take on the entire Midlands to protect me."
"I would have," I muttered, my own voice thick with emotion. I really fucking would have. I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against me, wanting her to feel that she was safe, that the vultures were gone, and that she didn't have to be the provider for a single second longer. "I’d take on the whole world for you, Carrie. You’re done being their bank. You’re done being their punching bag. "
Carrie let out a long, ragged sob into my shoulder, her fingers clenching into the back of my jumper as she finally let go of the years of resentment and guilt. I held her through it, swaying us gently in the middle of our quiet, empty kitchen.
Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at me, a watery, genuine smile touching her lips—the kind of smile she only ever saved for me. "I suppose," she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "that Richard won't be needing that guest room anymore."
"He's probably halfway to the motorway by now," I smirked, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Good riddance."
"Yes," she breathed, her gaze softening as she leaned back into me. "Good riddance to all of it. Just us now, Alex. Just us."
I smirked, my protective adrenaline finally mellowing into a playful, restless energy. I took Carrie’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and started tugging her toward the hallway.
"Well," I said, my voice light but firm. "It’s still early, and the parasites have officially cleared out. I believe we were promised a lazy Sunday."
Carrie followed me, the tension finally beginning to drain from her limbs.
We moved to the front door together; I checked the heavy manual locks with a satisfying thunk, and Carrie leaned over to the sleek security panel on the wall.
With a few decisive taps, the iron gates at the end of the long drive hissed shut, sealing us away from the world.
"Captive," I joked, leaning back against the wall once the 'all-clear' light glowed green. "Now that I have you all to myself, I’m thinking we finally watch the third Scream film."
Carrie let out a theatrical, long-suffering groan, her head falling back against the doorframe.
"A slasher film, Alex? On our first day of true peace? Can’t we watch something...
less jumpy?" She paused, catching my stubborn look, and sighed with a soft, relenting smile. "Fine. Only because I love you."
I didn't say a word. I just started backing toward the stairs, my eyes locked on hers, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across my face.
"Well," I said, my voice dropping to that low, suggestive hum as I started to climb the steps backward. "Since Richard is officially gone and we have the entire house to ourselves... I was planning on spending the rest of the day completely naked. Does that make up for the masked killers?"
Carrie froze at the foot of the stairs, her breath hitching. Her exhaustion vanished instantly, replaced by the woman who looked at me like I was the only thing in the universe that mattered. Her gaze darkened, a slow, hungry fire igniting in her eyes as she watched me retreat upward.
"Suddenly," she rasped, her hand gripping the banister as she followed me, her pace quickening, "I find I have a very strong interest in horror films. Lead the way, Alex."