Chapter Thirty-Two Emmy
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emmy
My gaze collides with Khai’s.
The fury in his eyes is unmistakable, raw, lethal, but beneath it burns something far worse. Fear. Uncertainty. The kind that has no place in a man like him, and yet it’s there, undeniable, because of me.
My lungs burn.
His father’s arm is locked too tightly around my throat, crushing just enough to remind me how fragile I am in his grasp.
I fight for air, but all I manage are shallow, broken breaths that barely reach my chest. The edges of my vision blur and darken, the room tilting as panic claws its way up my spine.
Stay awake.
Stay here.
I try to speak, to ground myself in the sound of his name, in him.
“Khai…”
The word slips out fractured and weak, more breath than voice, but his eyes flare instantly, like the sound of it has struck something deep and violent inside him.
His father leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, soft, almost tender.
“Shhh, pretty little thing,” he murmurs calmly, the words more terrifying for how gentle they sound. “The men need to have a talk now.”
A violent shiver tears through me. Dread settles heavy and poisonous in my stomach, spreading fast. My body trembles uncontrollably, caught between his grip and the cold certainty of the gun at my head.
But I don’t look at him.
I keep my eyes locked on Khai.
I try to speak to him without a sound, to beg him not to move, not to break, hoping he can read the terror written into every shallow breath I manage to steal.
“Let. Her. Go.” Khai’s voice is low, guttural, scraped raw through clenched teeth. “Father.”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t shift. He stands utterly still, like a man holding himself together by force alone. His eyes never leave mine.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
A soft chuckle hums behind me.
“No, she doesn’t,” his father agrees mildly. “But she was very useful in getting you here.” The barrel presses harder into my temple, unforgiving. I flinch despite myself. “And she’s, my insurance. My guarantee that you’ll fall back in line, boy.”
Khai’s gaze sharpens to a lethal point.
I see his fingers curl slowly into fists at his sides, blood already slicking his knuckles, dripping from where he’s torn himself open in restraint.
And in that moment, with death breathing down my neck and Khai balanced on the edge of losing everything,
I know.
If he moves too soon, I die.
And if he doesn’t…
Something inside him will.
Khai looks towards his father again, changing the course of the conversation.
“You killed him, Father,” Khai snarls, his control finally fracturing. His voice rises, raw and unrestrained. “You killed Liam. He was good, and you destroyed him. Then you erased him like he never existed.” His jaw tightens. “Why?”
His father’s grip on me tightens as he jerks his head up, fury igniting his features.
“It was supposed to be you!” he roars, shoving the gun away from my temple and pointing it straight at Khai instead.
His arm trembles with the force of it, even as he keeps me locked against him, my body pinned and helpless.
“You were always the problem,” he spits, venom dripping from every word. “Unpredictable. Uncontrolled.” His voice cracks as he repeats it, softer now, more unhinged. “It was supposed to be you.”
Something flashes through Khai’s eyes, pain, sharp and devastating, before his composure snaps back into place like armour reforged. He inhales once, deeply, and when he speaks again his voice is steady.
“Let her go, Father.” He takes a single step forward, slow and deliberate, arms spreading at his sides in surrender. “If you want me dead, I’m here. Take me.”
He doesn’t look away from me.
“Just let her go.”
A sob tears free from my chest. Tears spill hot and fast, my vision blurring as the room tilts. I shake my head frantically against the arm holding me.
“Khai, no,” I force out, my voice breaking. “Please… no.”
My heart feels like it’s tearing itself apart as the truth claws its way free, the one I’ve been too afraid to name until now.
“Khai,” I whisper, desperate and raw. “I love you.”
The words fall from my lips with terrifying ease, natural, inevitable, and for the first time, I don’t fight them.
Even if it’s the last thing I ever say.