28. Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
JUDE GRAVES
I leave Emma’s room after she falls asleep, easing the door shut behind me.
I still feel her on my skin, still taste her, and still feel the warmth of her body beneath mine.
For a second, I just stand there and let what just happened settle.
It was real and beautiful, and I realized during it that I have to really try for her. I can’t allow myself to drown.
We have three fucking days left now. And I need to make up my mind about what I’m going to do and how I’m going to do it.
My steps are slow and clumsy, like after you experience something intense. I pass Micah and Heather’s room and notice the door cracked open just slightly. I hesitate, then push it a fraction wider, careful not to let it creak.
They’re asleep.
Heather’s tucked against him, Micah’s arm wrapped around her, protective even in sleep.
My chest softens. I’ve known Heather longer than Micah, long enough to remember versions of her that didn’t look this safe or happy.
She’s always been the wilder one between her and Emma.
But with him, she’s softer. And somehow, through all of this, through me, they found each other.
A quiet, almost disbelieving smile pulls at my mouth. At least something good came out of all of this.
I ease the door back to where it was and keep moving. I don’t expect anyone to be awake when I reach the bottom of the stairs. But of course, they are. Rafe and Adela sit at the dining table, the glow of a laptop lighting up their faces. They both look up when they see me.
Adela smiles. “How did things go?”
“Good,” I say, the word coming easier than I expect. “Yeah…good.”
And it’s the truth.
Rafe nods once before his attention shifts back to the screen in front of him. I honestly can’t thank them enough for everything they’re doing to help keep us safe. I linger there longer than I mean to, half here, and half somewhere else.
And then a thought settles, and I’m struck with a sudden decision.
“Hey,” I say finally, my voice cutting through the low hum of the room as I stop near the basement door.
They both look up again.
“Rafe,” I add, holding his attention, “can you help me with something?”
He straightens slightly in his chair. “Right now?”
I let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of my neck as I glance briefly toward the basement door. “Now would be great.”
***
When I open my eyes, I realize that my body fucking hurts. My neck is stiff. I go to move, but chains rattle when I do, and I snap my eyes open. Concrete, dim light, and fluorescent lights.
Alexei’s basement.
No.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard it feels like it’s trying to break out of my chest. My head jerks left, right, searching for him or Erik, my vision struggling to catch up with the panic already flooding my body. I pull against the chains, the metal digging into my wrists.
Nothing.
My arms shake with the effort, my strength gone, like it’s been drained out of me entirely.
This isn’t real. This can’t be.
The door creaks open, the sound freezing everything inside of me. And when I see who walks in with him, my chest fucking caves.
Alexei, smiling. Laughing, actually. And—
Emma is in his grip, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck like she’s nothing more than an animal he dragged in off the street. He shoves her forward, and she hits the ground hard, her knees slamming into the concrete before he kicks her, sending her sprawling onto her side.
Something in me snaps.
I lunge. The chains slam tight, yanking me back so hard my shoulders scream, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything except the need to get to her. To get him away from her.
Alexei just laughs, like this is some kind of fucking show, and I’m exactly where he wants me. “Look at you,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice smooth. “Still trying. There's no good left in you, you know.”
Another set of footsteps echoes behind him, and Vlad steps into the light, his black hair slicked back, his eyes dark and hungry as they drag over Emma and me. Rage floods my system so fast that it burns through my insides like a goddamn wildfire through deadwood.
“You fucked up, little rockstar,” Alexei hums, stopping just in front of me. “You fucked up so badly not coming back when you had the chance.”
He gestures lazily toward Emma. She’s pushing herself up, her breathing uneven, her eyes wide and terrified.
“Because now…” he continues, almost bored, “Vlad’s going to have a very good time with her.”
My jaw locks.
“You know,” Alexei adds, tilting his head slightly, “he always tests the product before he sells it.”
My stomach drops out from under me.
No.
“You fucking touch her,” I snap, my voice ripping out of me, “and I will rip your intestines out and shove them down your goddamn fucking throat.”
Alexei doesn’t even react, because he knows that I can’t move.
I’m trapped. And despite my warning, Vlad steps forward.
His gaze sweeps over the woman I love as if I didn’t just speak.
Like I don’t even fucking exist. He moves over her, his hands finding her hips, dragging her back toward him like she’s just something to be used and broken.
And she screams.
My name.
For him to stop.
For me to help her.
Screaming, screaming, screaming…
I lunge again, every muscle in my body straining, chains cutting into my skin, vision going red. Nothing. I can’t reach her.
I can’t—
I bolt upright in bed. Air tears into my lungs like I’ve almost drowned, my entire body drenched in sweat, heart slamming so hard it makes my vision pulse with every beat.
For a second, I don’t know where the fuck I am.
My eyes whip around the room, searching.
And when I realize I’m in the basement bedroom, in the cabin, my breathing stutters.
I drag a hand over my face, shaking, trying to force my body to catch up to what my mind already knows.
It was a nightmare.
Just a nightmare.
But my chest is still tight, because my hands still feel like they’re wrapped in metal. I can still hear her terrified cries. And somewhere deep in my bones, the fear hasn’t let me go. Because it doesn’t feel like something my mind just made up. It feels more like a warning than anything.
***
I sit on the edge of the bed for a while, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing, trying to convince my body that it’s over. That I’m not there again and that those fucking chains aren’t digging into my wrists, and that Emma—
My jaw tightens. She’s upstairs.
Safe.
I repeat it, over and over again, until my brain fucking gets it. Then I push to my feet and open my door. Thankfully, I’ve been able to walk around freely now. Especially since I’ve made the decision to sleep down here myself. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if I hurt her.
By the time I reach the stairs, I can smell the comforting aroma of coffee, and I follow it.
Micah is alone at the dining table, a mug in his hand, one elbow braced against the wood like he’s been sitting there for a while.
The laptops are still scattered across one side of the table, cables and notes and whatever the hell Adela and the others were working on last night, left exactly where they were.
He looks up the second he hears me, and his eyes track every movement of mine. For a second, neither of us says anything. Then his gaze sharpens, reading something in my face that I probably haven’t hidden very well.
“Rough night?” he asks.
I huff out a breath and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah,” I mutter. “You could say that.”
He gestures vaguely with his mug. “With Emma, it was good though, right?”
I nod, moving toward the counter. The simple act of pouring coffee feels oddly important, even if it’s just a trivial thing.
It is more than what I've been able to do for myself in a while.
I lean back against the counter for a second, just holding the mug between my palms, letting the heat sink into my skin.
Micah watches me the whole time. But it’s not in a suffocating way, by any means. I fucking hate how different and out of place I feel with everyone. I’m uncomfortable being in a house with people I barely know, and even more so, that I feel like a stranger to the people I love.
I push off the counter and walk over, dropping into the chair across from him. The wood creaks under my weight. Silence stretches between us while I take a sip, but it’s not weird. It never really has been with him. If I can be myself with anyone, it’s him.
“I really wasn’t sure we were ever going to find you,” he says finally.
No buildup. No warning. Just straight to it, apparently.
My grip tightens around the mug. “I know,” I say. Because I do. Because there were moments where I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come back.
He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair, eyes dropping to the table.
“There was a point,” he continues, quieter now, “where I stopped thinking we were getting you back and started thinking we were just…trying to survive whatever came after. How my new life would be marrying Heather and adopting Emma as my new best friend.”
My lips twitch. “Marrying Heather? It’s that serious?”
He nods. “Yeah, man. I love her.”
My gaze falls to my hands. “You deserve that.”
“You know you can talk to me about anything,” he murmurs suddenly. “You don’t have to, but if you need help processing anything…I’m here to listen.”
My throat tightens, and I look down at the coffee in my hands. “I almost didn’t make it,” I admit. “Adriana saved me from killing myself.”
Micah’s throat bobs, likely taken by surprise by my immediate response.
“I still see the look in people’s eyes when they looked up at me…scared. I still feel…” I trail off, wincing at the memory of Henrik. “Hands. All over me. Ones that I don’t want.”
“Would you like to talk more about that?” He asks, his voice soft and kind.