Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
Emilia
Answer me!” Zac snaps, his hand clamping around my wrist. He yanks my arm towards him, shoving the sleeve up. “Why do you have a fucking tattoo?”
“Zac, calm down,” Jordan tries, but my husband’s already too far from the realm of reason. His eyes are wild and dark, his pupils blown, furious and broken.
“Calm down?” he spits, voice cracking with disbelief. “She has a permanent fucking mark on her! What if the Enforcers see it?”
“So do you,” I shoot back, pulling my arm from his grip. My voice comes out sharp, only serving to throw fuel on his fire.
“You should sit down,” Claudia tells him, stepping between us, hands raised.
Zac moves before she finishes, retreating from her, his eyes not leaving mine. The tension in his jaw is tight, practically pulsing with anger. He shakes his head.
“Don’t fucking test me, Claudia,” he growls, tone full of accusation and disbelief. “There’s only one person who could have given her that.” Busted.
My stomach twists, but I hold his stare. I knew this would happen… I just thought I had more time to figure out a sensible way to approach this.
“Zac—”
“No!” Zac cuts Jordan off. “You introduced her to Riley?”
“Something like that.” Claudia’s voice is small. She grimaces, glancing between us, but Zac doesn’t spare her a look. His eyes are shifting, filling with something more than anger. Hurt maybe, or betrayal.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
I try Claudia’s approach. “Zac, please sit—”
“I’m not fucking sitting down!”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I say. “Just please, sit down!”
“No,” he snaps. “You’ll tell me everything. Right. Fucking. Now.”
I take a deep breath, eyes dropping to the ground. There’s no clean or easy way to admit what I’ve been embroiled in during his imprisonment, and without thinking it through, there’s no version that won’t hurt him. Maybe it’s better to just rip the wound open.
“I’m part of it,” I blurt. “The… Resistance, I guess.”
Zac’s expression twists. His eyes go wide, full of horror and panic, and for a moment, I think he might collapse. His knees buckle, hand flying to the chair for balance.
“Zac!” Jordan lunges forward, grabbing him before he falls, forcing him onto the seat.
“There was definitely a better way to say that, Em,” Claudia mutters, her voice soft, uncertain.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Zac’s voice is raw.
“It means what it says on the tin.” I shrug weakly, guilt laced through every word. “I’ve joined the Resistance. To take down the State.”
His eyes flick to his friends, narrowing. “You fucking told her? You dragged her into this?” he spits, voice rising and he struggles back to his feet.
“Zac, calm—” Jordan tries to grab his shoulders, to urge him back, but Zac’s pushing, shoving him away.
“That’s all I fucking asked of you!” Zac roars. His voice cracks on the next words. “You knew I wanted to keep her out of this!”
His glare snaps back to me, wild and desperate, and my throat clogs at the sight.
There’s fury in his every feature, that’s for sure, but just beyond, swirling like a tornado, I see fear.
The danger, the betrayal, the utter disbelief that I’ve stepped into the very thing he’s tried so hard to keep me safe from.
“It’s not their fault, Zac,” I say, voice soft and pleading. “It’s mine.”
He scoffs. “How?”
“I…” I trail off, biting my lip. “When you were taken to Killmoor, I struggled,” I admit. “A lot. At the beginning, I sort of… tried using alcohol to cope.”
Out the corner of my eye, Claudia tugs on Jordan’s arm, the two of them quietly retreating to the door.
Zac’s frown deepens. “Alcohol from where?”
“It doesn’t matter where,” I retort, unwilling to throw Rayden under the bus. “I ended up down at the train station.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know back then that the State still use it,” I say, before exhaling.
Slowly, I sink onto the arm of the sofa.
“I was so drunk, and I just remembered that’s where you were when the bombs hit, and…
” I stop, taking a breath. “When Claudia and Jordan found me, the entire bottle of gin was drained.”
I choose to omit the fact that I’d finished half a bottle of vodka before that, too.
“Emilia!” Zac murmurs, tone laced with urgency. His fingers reach for my chin, forcing my gaze up to his.
“I know.” I wince. “I think Claudia was the one who stuck her fingers down my throat. She’s a real angel, you know?
” I force a smile, and he sighs, fingers dropping.
Slowly, he sinks onto the chair beside me.
“It’s a bit of a blur,” I admit. “And I’m sure they expected me to forget it all.
But I didn’t. It didn’t make sense how they’d tracked me down, and all they told me was that they had their resources.
Exactly the same excuse as you.” I shrug.
“I was losing hope in everything, and I guess… Claudia saw that. Eventually, she took me to the Safe House, to show me there was still a reason to fight.”
Zac buries his head in his hands. “Fucking hell. She isn’t supposed to show that place to anyone.”
“That’s what Anna said,” I say, tone bitter at the thought of the petty bitch.
He snaps his head up so fast I flinch. “You met Anna?”
I raise an eyebrow and hold his stare. “Yeah,” I say bluntly. “And I guess I got more inspired than Claudia bargained for. I decided I wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing whilst you and Kayla were being tortured. I wanted to break you out of Killmoor.”
Zac draws in a shaky breath, head dropping back into his hands. “Fuck.”
“Jordan was furious, if that’s any consolation. I don’t think he and Claudia spoke for a couple of days,” I say. “And once I was at the Safe House, adamant I was going to the prison, they didn’t have any choice but to tell me.”
“Yes, they did,” he mutters. “They could have lied.”
“And said what? I saw their maps, the blueprints. The records, the food, the goddamn weapons.”
“There’s always another option,” he argues.
I huff out a laugh before slapping my palms on my thighs and standing. “Zac. I was going to Killmoor, whether I was with them, or alone.”
“You never should have—”
“But. I. Did!” I snap, spinning on my heel to face him. “They had to admit everything to stop me from going on a goddamn suicide mission! Don’t you dare blame them for that.”
Zac exhales, defeated. His shoulders slump and his gaze drops to his lap. “I wanted to protect you from all of this.”
“I know,” I say quietly, stepping closer until I’m right in front of him. “I’m sorry.”
“That still doesn’t explain the tattoo,” he murmurs. Slowly, his hands slide forward, coiling around my thighs. His head stays bowed, and I’m glad for it as my lips part and my chest heaves. His touch fries all the nerves in my legs, even through my jeans.
“Claudia, Bridget, and Kieran… they all gave in first,” I say, voice slightly unsteady. “I’ve been running, and working out, and… learning how to shoot and throw knives.”
He stiffens, his hold tightening. I fight the urge to react, even as my pulse quickens.
“Jordan only agreed to continue your lessons,” I say. “Teaching me how to defend myself.”
Zac’s hands flex against my thighs, then slide higher as he lifts his head. His eyes are dark and unreadable. My stomach flutters, warm and giddy—everything I should not be feeling.
“They… they took me to the Armoury to show me that there are other people like us.” I continue. “Bridget introduced me to Riley, but it was my decision to get a tattoo.”
“You shouldn’t have been there,” he says roughly. His thumbs stroke small circles against the back of my thighs, like he’s trying to ground himself, to stop from losing control.
“I really am sorry,” I whisper. “But I don’t regret it.”
He lets go of my legs, and my gut drops in disappointment. Straightening his spine, his fingers trail up my arm instead, catching the hem of my sleeve. He pushes it upward until the ink is revealed.
I don’t look at it. I just watch his eyes, heavy with everything I’ve just told him. Despite it all, something that could verge on a smile quirks at his lips.
“Why a butterfly?” he asks softly.
“I don’t like them.”
His brow creases, and his lips part.
“They scare me.” I continue. “But… Mum loved them. And in the grand scheme of things, there are far bigger things to be afraid of these days. It reminds me of that.”
A gruff chuckle spills through his lips, and I freeze at the sound, my chest warming. It’s gone as quickly as it came, his finger gently tracing the still raised lines of ink.
“I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters.
“You’re going to kill no one.”
He smirks. “Try and stop me.”
“Riley is harmless—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Riley made you a walking fucking target.”
“By my own choice!” I snap.
“Because you’re a liability,” he bites back.
I scoff, wrenching my arm back and crossing them across my chest. “Takes one to know one.”
Zac leans forward. His eyes stay fixed on mine, something dark within.
“You may be right about that.” I step closer, closing the space between us.
My gaze rakes over his face, the rough stubble along his jaw, the tension pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I let the silence stretch just slightly too long for it to feel natural.
“Then maybe it’s time we stop fighting against one another?” I suggest quietly. “And start directing our anger elsewhere.”
He smirks. “The day you stop annoying me, I’ll know something is very, very wrong.”
“And the day you aren’t a hypocritical twat,” I reply, voice steady, “I’ll know something is very, very, very wrong.”
“Glad we understand one another.”
“Me too,” I murmur. Wrenching my gaze from his, I turn, ignoring my racing heart as I head for the stairs, gripping the bannister and spinning onto the first step.
“Emilia?” Zac says, voice low.
I stop, peering back at him. “Yes?”
“Don’t mistake my words for acceptance,” he says, tone laced with restraint. “I’m fucking furious at you.”
I force myself to nod before tearing my eyes away, unable to stop a grin from spreading across my face.
“I know,” I say before racing up the stairs two at a time.