18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
EMMA EASTON
The house has a rhythm now, even if it’s built on tension and exhaustion and a million cups of coffee.
I swear, Rafe, Nico, or Kieran have gone to the grocery store only because we ran out.
We're all moving with purpose instead of panic, even if Alexei keeps harassing us. Adela and Nico barely leave their screens. Rafe rotates between the monitors and his phone, tracking movement we can’t see.
On top of that, he assists Micah, Heather, and me with Jude.
Micah sleeps when he can, watches Jude when he can’t.
Adriana drifts between rooms, offering little input here and there.
Even visiting Jude a couple of times. He seems familiar with her in a way that hurts. But I understand. He doesn't love her.
And what do I do?
I go to him. Over and over again.
***
When I walk into Jude’s room, I see that he’s not chained to the bed anymore, not fully.
The restraints are still close by, but Micah made the call to give him controlled movement during the day.
It’s both a test and a risk, considering he will still occasionally snap back into conditioning. That’s always hard to watch.
He doesn’t look at me right away when I step inside, but he doesn’t flinch either.
That’s new.
I gently close the door behind me, keeping my movements slow and predictable for him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” It’s quiet, but I take that and sit down in the wooden chair across from him instead of on the bed this time. I want to give him some space.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
He offers a half-shrug, like a full one takes more effort than he's willing to give. “Better. Still…off.”
“Withdrawal?”
“Yeah. Even with the medicine, my body is missing heroin. Especially when it starts wearing off.” He drags a hand over the back of his neck. “And just…everything else.”
I nod.
We sit there in silence for a few seconds, but it’s different now. He still seems tired and quiet, but no longer as scared of his own movements. His gaze flicks toward me briefly. It lingers longer than it did last time. Then it’s gone.
But at least it happened.
***
The second time, he’s pacing slowly near the edge of the bed. When I walk in, his shoulders tense automatically. It’s not in a violent way…it’s more instinctual. I hate it so much. He stops pacing, and I stop moving. We both hold there for a few seconds.
“Hey. I’m not going to hurt you.”
His jaw locks. “I know.” But his body doesn’t fully believe it yet. And that’s okay, because we’re teaching it.
“I can leave if you want,” I add. “If you’re having a hard day.”
He shakes his head once. “No. Just…don’t come too close.”
“Okay.”
I stay where I am, a few feet away.
We exist like that for a while, talking in bits rather than full conversations. He asks what day it is. I tell him. He asks how Micah and Heather are doing. I tell him they’re in love.
He smiles then. It’s the first hint of something so familiar it makes my heart soar. “I knew they’d be.”
***
The third time, he sits on the bed when I come in. And this time…he looks at me. It’s not for long, but it’s long enough for me to see the conflict clearly now.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. His fingers twitch against his thigh. His breathing shifts a little, as if something inside him is trying to react, and he’s holding it back. But he doesn’t look away immediately.
He fights it.
“I’m proud of you,” I say softly.
His gaze drops after that, like the words really hit him. “It isn’t enough,” he mutters.
“Why?”
He shakes his head. “Because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything.”
“You are,” I say. “You’re choosing not to react. Or hurt me.”
He exhales slowly. “Feels like I’m just sitting here trying not to lose my mind. It’s fucking annoying, because I know you’re not a threat. I know I…” he trails off, his gaze falling to the floor.
“I know,” I tell him.
That earns me a glance. It’s brief, but real. “I…I can't tell if I do anymore. Or if I'm just permanently broken.”
***
There’s a moment the next day where everything almost goes wrong. He’s pacing again. His hands rung through his hair, then drop, then clench at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His breathing is ragged.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he snaps suddenly.
I don’t flinch. “Like what?”
He lets out a sharp, humorless breath, shaking his head as he turns away from me before I can fully catch his expression.
“Like I’m still…me.” His voice cracks on the last word, frustration slicing through it.
“I’m not, Emma. Fuck.” He drags a hand over his mouth, pacing again.
“It’s not helpful, what you’re doing. You’re not getting me back, and you have to accept that. ”
The words land exactly where he intends them to. They hurt. But I don’t let it show. He’s just angry and hurting.
“I can accept that,” I say quietly, even as my heart strains against my ribs.
“But you also need to accept the fact that I love you.” I take a slow breath, grounding myself before I continue.
“I’m not going anywhere. I won’t give up on you.
I won’t stop loving you, no matter who you are right now.
Or who you think you’ve become. I’m changing, too. ”
His shoulders tense at that, his back still to me. For a second, I think he’s going to shut down completely. Instead, he turns.
And the look on his face is worse.
“You saw the video,” he says, his voice rough, almost hoarse. “You know what I did.” His jaw tightens, darkness flickering behind his eyes. “That wasn’t a one-time thing.” A bitter, broken laugh slips out of him again. “I did that a fucking lot.”
My chest twists painfully. “That wasn’t—”
“It was me,” he cuts in, louder now. “It was my hands. I fucking beat that man to death.” His voice fractures, but he keeps going anyway, like he needs to say it out loud or it’ll eat him alive.
“I’ve shot people. I’ve stabbed people, and I don’t even know what they fucking did.
And you know what?” He bares his teeth. “It felt good sometimes.”
The silence that follows is heavy enough that I can feel his pain.
“And it wasn’t your choice,” I say, firmer this time.
His entire body seems to loosen, his hands dragging hard through his hair. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice dropping, cracking under the weight of it. He turns away from me again, pacing. “I can’t—”
He doesn’t finish it.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Jude, it’s okay.”
His breathing stutters, but he doesn’t tell me to leave.
***
By the next day, he asks a question without prompting. It actually catches me off guard.
“What are they doing upstairs?” he asks, his eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.
“Adela and Nico?” I clarify gently.
He nods once.
I shift in the chair, folding one leg beneath me as I consider how much to say without overwhelming him.
“They’re trying to break into Alexei’s system,” I explain.
“Not just brute force it…they’re mapping it first. Every layer, every trigger.
There’s a dead man’s switch built into it, so if they push the wrong thing…
” I trail off, exhaling softly. “Everything gets released.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look up. “Of course there is.”
“They’ve been tracing how it’s structured,” I continue, a little more quietly now. “Rafe and Kieran have been helping identify patterns, and how Alexei might’ve built it based on how he operates.”
Jude lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “Good luck with that.”
“They’re making progress,” I say.
“They’d better,” he mutters, his voice rougher now. “He doesn’t like being ignored. He’ll make an example if he thinks he’s losing control of the situation.”
A flicker of unease twists in my stomach, but before I can respond, there’s a soft knock at the door.
It opens a second later. Rafe steps inside, his presence immediately filling the space without him needing to say a word.
Kieran lingers just behind him, quieter, watchful as always.
He’s the calmer one between him and Nico, I've noticed.
“Everything alright in here?” Rafe asks, his gaze moving between us.
I let out a small breath. “Oh, perfect timing.”
His brow lifts slightly, amused.
“Jude was just asking about what you guys are working on,” I say, gesturing lightly. “I sort of explained, but I don't think I'm doing a good job.”
Rafe hums once, stepping further into the room, hands sliding into his pockets as he considers how to answer.
“In simple terms,” he begins, his tone smooth but precise, “we’re trying to understand the architecture before we touch anything important.
Alexei didn’t just build a system; he built a trap, it seems.”
Jude’s eyes flick up briefly, then away again.
“There are layered triggers,” Rafe continues.
“Some tied to access attempts, others tied to behavioral patterns. Adela found what appears to be a secondary encryption loop nested within the first. Every time we get close to something meaningful, it reroutes us.” A faint smirk touches his mouth.
“Clever and irritating, yes. But not unbreakable.”
Kieran shifts against the doorframe. “They’re both looking at you like you’ve got three heads, boss.”
I roll my eyes. “When it comes to this code shit, we need things in layman’s terms.”
Jude’s head snaps toward me.
Rafe smirks. “Your girl swears now.”
Jude’s lips quirk up for a moment before returning to the conversation at hand. “You’re trying to trick a psychopath who built the system.”
Rafe’s smile sharpens just a fraction. “Yes.”
Silence settles for a second. And I realize, distantly, that I’m staring.
Because sitting there, in the low light of the room, they look dangerous and beautiful in a way that feels unfair given the circumstances.
Rafe is all control and confidence, like he’s already three steps ahead of a game no one else fully understands.
And Jude, the love of my life, damaged, but with a stronger heart than anyone I’ve ever known.
Two of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen.
My attention snaps back to Jude. “They’ll figure it out,” I say, softer now. “We just have to give them time.”
Jude doesn’t respond right away. But he doesn’t dismiss it, either.
“Do you think Alexei will release another video of you?” Rafe asks, his arms crossing.
Jude leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Probably. And I can tell you right now that none of them are fucking good, man.”