Epilogue
JULES
I curl deeper into the empty bath, praying that someone will save me.
“Open this fucking door, Jules.” The hammering on the door doesn’t stop. A few minutes more and it’ll splinter under his fist. It’s happened before. I don’t know why I’m even hiding. It only ever makes everything worse. “Do you know how pathetic you are? What kind of man fucking hides like this?”
The kind who’s been broken down over the years. Who’s too afraid to speak in case he says something wrong. Nothing I ever say is right. Nothing.
It never used to be like this. When I first met Patrick, he was charming. Sweet. Caring.
He was careful not to show his true colors until after we exchanged vows, when I was thousands of miles from my home with no control over my finances.
I was a fool. A young, naive fool.
I blame my parents. They love one another. I wanted that, the white picket fence and the adoring gazes.
I didn’t get that. Not at all.
I was doomed to this life instead.
“Fuck this,” I hear Patrick mutter. “You can’t hide in there forever. You have to come out sometime, and I’ll be waiting when you do.”
I lean my head back against the cold porcelain, tears streaming down my face. I’m fully dressed, I just thought the bath seemed like a good place to hide this time.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the feeling of being enclosed. Held, almost.
It’s been so long since I’ve been held.
The closest was Harley when he pulled me into a hug the other day. But I didn’t let myself sink into that. I was stiff and aloof. I couldn’t go there.
I never can with him, or else I’ll fall entirely.
I listen to Patrick’s boots stomping away. All the way down the stairs. Along the hallway. To the front door. It slams behind him. He’s probably off to find his next hit.
He was always a monster deep down, but the drugs have made him bold, careless.
I give myself one more minute to cry, then I force myself out of the tub.
I don’t meet my gaze in the mirror as I splash water on my face. I don’t want to see the black eye that no amount of makeup could hide. Or the split lip that had me calling in sick to work.
Patrick’s normally so careful, only leaving marks where no one will see them. But since his dishonorable discharge for punching one of his superiors, all bets are off.
My fingers dig into the sink as my head hangs below my shoulders.
It was always easier when he was deployed.
I could almost pretend he no longer existed.
That I was just Jules. A happy, cheeky man who works for a family who values him.
Who allow him free rein to create whatever his heart desires in the kitchen.
Foolishly, I started to hope for a different future. One where I might gain my freedom.
But that’s not going to happen. Not now. There won’t be any more deployments. No months of freedom.
Just me and Patrick, trapped in this house.
Until the day he finally snaps and kills me.
I wash my hands out of habit. I am a fool, but I’m no longer naive.
I know exactly who the Buckinghams are. What they do. I’ve been present during meetings no other member of staff would’ve been permitted to attend.
I know why, too, even if I refuse to admit it. Because if I do, I’ll do something stupid.
Like tell Harley the truth.
I can’t have him knowing. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. Like I can do no wrong. Like I’m special.
I’m neither of those things. Patrick reminds me as often as he can.
A single word to any one of the Buckinghams, or even one of their partners, and Patrick would simply disappear. Even Dotty might take him out for me. I’ve seen her with that spray bottle. She’s ruthless.
So, why haven’t I said anything?
Well, at first, I thought maybe things would get better. That Patrick would return from his leave and everything would go back to how it was before we got married.
It never did.
When that realization finally sank in, shame had me holding my tongue. That, and pride. I didn’t want the Buckinghams thinking less of me, and I certainly didn’t want them believing I’d gotten close to them to take advantage of them. Of what they do.
That too passed. But it left behind the biggest obstacle of all.
Fear.
I’m terrified of them learning the truth. Of Harley learning the truth. All these years, he’s believed I’m single. They all have. When he finds out I’ve been lying…
It’ll break his heart.
And what if he finds out about the abuse, then looks at me like Patrick does? Like I’m weak. Pitiful.
I can’t stand it. It’d hurt me more than Patrick’s fists ever could.
I’ve been playing a dangerous game with Harley. At first, I told myself it was a harmless flirtation. That I deserved something good in my life.
But then he kept showing up day after day, and I realized that even goodness can break your heart.
Because Harley is good. Of all the Buckinghams, his heart is the purest. Guns are his weapon of choice because they allow him distance. Even his brothers recognize this, avoiding giving him any up-close wet work where possible, and not insisting he participate in the torture chamber.
Or, the Hospitality Suite, as Dalton calls it.
I imagine Patrick inside there and my stomach rolls.
Even after everything he’s put me through, I still can’t condemn him to that fate.
I know it sounds stupid, but he’s tried so hard to strip away every facet of my sense of self.
The old Jules would never have let someone be hurt or killed because of him.
There isn’t much of him left these days, but I hold on to that.
The sliver of the man I once was. If I cling tightly enough, it might be enough to rebuild that man. One layer at a time.
I might be hiding the truth from the Buckinghams, but I’m not above going to The Firm.
In the early hours of this morning, long before the sun rose, I snuck from my house while Patrick slept. Dressed in black and a balaclava, I was confident my identity would be concealed. It was a risk—The Firm only honor requests if they know who to demand a price from.
But I’m desperate. I’ll try anything.
Anything other than telling Harley. This is my mess; I’m not dragging him into it.
I don’t want him to hate me.
I haven’t asked for much. Just enough to get me a one-way ticket to the East Coast, transferred to an offshore account that can’t be traced back to me.
My plan has been in place for a while—since the day Patrick showed up on my doorstep and proclaimed he was back for good.
Before reminding me why I love him being away so much.
I’d had to call out sick that day, too.
And the one after.
Anyone other than the Buckinghams would’ve fired me long before now. But they are loyal to those they consider in their inner circle. I’m honored to be part of it.
But I’m not stupid. I’m there because of Harley. Because he looks at me the way I always wanted a man to. The way I’m desperate to look at him. How I sometimes do, before reminding myself why I can’t.
I’m damaged goods in the worst possible way. Even with Patrick out of the picture, I won’t ever be worthy of Harley. I’m too broken. Too jaded. Too untrusting.
He deserves someone who will love him with all the joy in their heart. And the truth is, that person can never be me. How can it, when my heart is full of poison?
If the Buckinghams knew the truth, if Harley knew the truth, I’d be cast out. I know that. Harley’s feelings come first, as they should.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I finally returned to work after Patrick’s unexpected reappearance in my life, I knew things had to change. I tried to put distance between me and Harley. To gently create a natural break.
I should’ve known Harley would never allow it. He’s a Buckingham, after all. He’s used to getting what he wants.
And he wants me. He’s made that abundantly clear.
The problem is that the version he thinks he wants? He isn’t real. He doesn’t exist. I created him in order to survive.
This, this right here, this is the real me—hiding in a bathroom, tears streaming down my face, trying to get up the courage to do something as simple as flick the lock open on my door.
The Buckinghams have no idea how they’ve helped me over the past few weeks.
Ansel happily answered my questions about all sorts of bank accounts and cryptocurrency without ever wondering why I was asking.
Neo let me keep him company as he checked the cameras around the church where the drop site was, not realizing I was marking their positions so I could avoid them.
Cade gave me the extra self-defense lessons I requested.
Not that they’ve helped. One look at Patrick’s face and I become paralyzed with fear. The punch he gave me rattled my brain.
But I had to try something.
My eyes glance over at my phone screen for the notification that my freedom is in sight. As soon as that money hits the account, I’ll be gone. I don’t have access to any of my own money. Patrick monitors every transaction. But if The Firm comes through for me, I’ll finally be free of him.
It remains stubbornly dark.
It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. You’ll find a way out of this.
I wish I could believe that.
Once I’m on the East Coast, I’ll go to the Windsors and ask of them what I couldn’t of the Buckinghams. Not without giving away who is truly doing the asking, anyway.
What I need is a new identity. One that will allow me to hide from Patrick permanently.
The Buckinghams can’t help me with this, but the Windsors can. I don’t even care what price they demand. Anything will be better than living here with Patrick, dying a little more day by day.
I hear the front door open, and I brace myself. Patrick’s right, I can’t hide in here forever.
It’s time to try running.
I hold my breath as boots hit the stairs, but these are lighter. Quicker. Moving almost silently. I know in my bones who it is.
No. No no no.
I stare at the doorknob. It’s fine. It’s locked. Stay silent, and he’ll think you’re not here.
I should’ve known better.
Harley is smarter than that.