Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Emilia
My alarm goes off before the sun is up.
I slap the off button, groaning as I drag myself out of the cosy bed. My head is heavy and tired, thoughts foggy as I get dressed in the dark. I have to get to work.
Pulling my denim jacket on, I head downstairs. The house is quiet, and I frown. There’s no Claudia, no Jordan, no Sam or Heidi. Over the last five days, if Zac’s friends can’t do it, my own friends have been stepping in to stay with me.
No idea why. I’m fine.
Ignoring the way my chest clenches, I stumble back and grab hold of the door handle, needing to get to work. I inhale deeply before yanking it open and stepping outside.
The brisk morning air hits my face, but something’s wrong. The street smells damp and metallic, and it’s even darker than usual, with no glimpses of the sun just rising on the horizon.
I blink.
There is no street.
And behind me, the front door vanishes.
Instead, black concrete walls appear, penning me in. There’s a small, porthole style window in the top back corner, and suddenly it’s no longer sunrise, but the middle of the day. Light filters through the window, funneling like a spotlight down to the middle of the cell.
My stomach drops and my breath catches at the sight of the figure dangling from the chains in the centre of the ceiling.
He’s still in the blue jeans and long-sleeved dark red top he was wearing the day he was taken, only now the top is ripped along his abdomen, the fabric covered in dark stains that have nausea swirling up my windpipe.
Zac.
He’s slumped, head hanging forward, strands of hair falling into his face, barely conscious.
“Zac?” My voice breaks. I try to rush forward, but my legs are locked in place, utterly frozen. “Zac!”
His eyes flicker open and slowly—ever so slowly—his head lifts. All at once, his eyes meets mine, and I suck in a breath at the pain echoing within them. They’re glassy, empty, as though not even registering that I’m standing right here.
“Zac, it’s me!” I try, voice breaking mid-sentence.
He just jolts, jaw tensing, eyes filling with as much of a blazing fury as he can manage in this state.
“Zac…” I trail off as a shadow looms over me, darkening the edges of the room. Right before I whirl on my heel, the shadow steps through me.
As though he’s dragged all the oxygen out of my body as he does so, I gasp, lungs fighting and tightening, ribs aching as I watch the Enforcer approach my husband.
There’s a knife in his hand, a smug smirk on his lips, and Zac…
Zac just stares at him, jaw set and eyes emotionless… as though daring him to do his worst.
“No,” I whisper. No matter how much I fight, my legs refuse to shift. I can’t get to him.
The Enforcer’s arm darts out, grabbing Zac’s shoulder to hold him still. The knife flashes in the daylight.
“Stop!” I yell, struggling as hard as I fucking can, but nothing I do allows any inch of me to close the distance. To be heard. To be seen.
The blade drives into Zac’s ribs. He jerks, a choked gasp ripping out of him as bright-red blood spills between the Enforcer’s fingers.
“No,” I scream. “No!”
From somewhere far away, I hear my name being called.
I blink, and then it’s Kayla instead, sobbing as the Enforcer twists the knife, blood spilling down her pretty white summer dress.
“Let them go,” I cry.
“Emilia!”
I bolt upright in bed, my scream echoing off the walls of the bedroom, chest heaving as I clutch the sheets. Slowly, the room settles into focus—the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table, the wardrobes at the end of the bed. The thin, useless curtains. The green bedspread. Jordan.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around my arm, steady and warm, his deep bronze skin catching the lamplight as I blink at him.
The moment he realises I’m properly awake, he pulls his hand back, like he’s worried he’ll alarm me.
Concern is etched into his face, and just behind him, Claudia stands, biting her lip, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Hey,” Jordan says softly. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.” I swallow, gaze drifting back to his dark brown eyes. They’re the wrong hue. Darker than I’m used to. He gives me a soft, sad smile. “You’re safe, Emilia.”
Claudia’s expression mirrors her husband’s. “Just a dream,” she echoes.
And just like every other night, I force myself to nod, shifting beneath the sheets and finding the hem of the duvet, running it through my fingers.
Just like every other night, they assure me, over and over, that it’s just a dream.
I’m not convinced.
The next morning, I stare at Sam, my eyes wide, lips parted uselessly. Heidi’s hand is warm and firm on my shoulder, but it doesn’t cut through the blood roaring through my ears. Sam’s words won’t sink in. Won’t register...
“The trial is today?” Heidi exclaims, voice piercing with disbelief, and Sam nods. “When?” she demands.
His gaze flicks to me, hesitant. “Five. This afternoon.”
“But… Claudia, Jordan… they’re at work.” It’s all I can manage. My voice is small and weak.
Rayden lets out a low whistle before sinking into the armchair opposite. “Fuck.”
“It was a last-minute decision—”
“Did you tell Jace?” I cut in, my thoughts scrambled.
“I’ll go and tell him in a minute,” Sam says quietly. I tug my lip between my teeth, the ringing in my ears painful.
“I’ll stay with Mils,” Heidi murmurs, glancing at her husband before turning to Rayden. “You should go with Sam. Jace knows you—”
“Why?” The question rips out of me before I can stop it, slicing through the room. All three of them freeze, turning to look at me. “Why are they doing this? Why go through the pretence of a trial? They’ve already decided they’re both fucking guilty.”
Silence fills the room, none of them responding.
My breath shudders, and I drop my head into my hands, clutching at the strands of my hair, yanking until pain stings across my scalp, something sharp to ground me to reality.
“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” I mutter finally, standing from the couch.
“What?”
“For the trial,” I reply, snapping at Rayden.
Heidi reaches for me, her fingers curling around mine. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Going there?”
“Honestly?” I mutter. “No. But I can’t let them sit there thinking we aren’t here for them.” I pause, raking a hand through my hair. “I mean, fuck! Jordan and Claudia are at fucking work! They can’t even go.” Frustration cracks through the last word.
“She’s right,” Sam murmurs, his eyes fixed on me. “We have to go.”
Heidi nods slowly. “We’ll leave Jordan and Claudia a note. In case they get home from work in time.”
“Thank you,” I manage. I turn away and start up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
I can’t quite wrap my head around it. Germain is throwing a fake trial, an effort to make the State look humane. But it’s nothing more than theatre, and they’re not going to fool anyone. Certainly not me.
I yank open the wardrobe and stare blankly for longer than I care to admit before grabbing a plain black dress.
It’s tighter than I remember, and low cut, but that’s nothing new.
I pull it on anyway, before messily twisting my hair up into a loose knot.
If this were a real trial, one where my husband and Kayla had even a small chance, I’d probably make more effort. Try to look respectable, even.
It’s obvious what’s going to happen today.
My throat tightens. I press a hand to the wardrobe door, trying to steady myself. I need to keep it together. For Zac. For Kayla.
They’ve spent nearly a week locked up, and I’m terrified to see the state of them, the evidence of what they’ve been through. The thought makes my stomach twist, heat surging beneath my ribs—anger, grief, helplessness all tangled together until I can’t tell which is which.
Closing my eyes, I take a long, slow breath. No evidence of my emotions. No tears. No mess.
Zac and Kayla need a united front, even if we can’t do anything to help. Even if it’s entirely fake.
It’s all I can give them.
Four hours later, after Heidi forced a stale cheese sandwich down my throat, the three of them, plus Jace, are back in my living room, solemn and serious.
“Did you bring it?” I ask Rayden, my voice flat.
He nods, but his brow furrows with hesitation. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Mils—”
“Then fuck off,” I snap before he can finish. “Seriously. Leave if you want.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Wordlessly, he lifts an unopened bottle of vodka and hands it over.
Heidi’s eyes widen. “Mils—”
But I’m already turning away, heading into the kitchen and pouring us all a generous shot of the spirit.
I grab two and head back into the living room, thrusting one into Rayden’s hand, the other into Jace’s.
Jace doesn’t flinch, taking it without complaint, probably needing it as much as I do, and Ray frowns, but takes it anyway.
“Drink it, or don’t,” I tell them, grabbing the final three and handing one to Sam and Heidi. “I don’t care. But if I’m going to walk down to that so-called goddamn courthouse, I need all the courage I can muster.”
I raise my glass before any of them can speak, downing it in one go. The vodka scorches its way down, fire spreading through my chest, numbing and burning all at once.
It’s awful.
And exactly what I need.
Jace doesn’t hesitate either. Rayden’s eyes flicker between us for a long second, brow creased, before finally nodding and tipping his own back.
The temptation to have another is unbearable, but I swallow the urge, knowing how much of a slippery slope it’ll be. My head needs to be clear—for them—even if everything else isn’t.
Heidi catches my eye, giving me a tiny, reluctant smile before knocking hers back. Sam grimaces and drinks his too, and the room falls into a heavy silence.
“Okay,” I murmur, setting my glass down on the tiny side table. “Let’s go.” My voice cracks mid-sentence.