Chapter 41
* * *
Damien
I’d flown to her the second I heard her tone on the phone—that thin, breaking timbre she used when she was trying, and failing, to hold herself together. I remembered the fury that ripped up my spine when she told me she’d gone to Elion against my orders.
The defiance.
The fire.
The way she’d thrown fuck your orders at me like it was a knife meant to stick.
But it was my fault. I should’ve known better than to give a command and then walk away. She wasn’t like the others I’d trained, guided, or led—no history, no practiced submission, no instinct shaped by years of structure. She was Emma—fierce, untamed.
I should’ve known she’d run straight at the fire even when I ordered her from the smoke.
But now…
Now she lay curled in my arms, transformed into something delicate.
There was no glaring. No pulling away. No bracing for the next blow the world had lined up for her.
She was simply here.
With me.
And for the first time it seemed like she finally believed. Believed what I meant when I claimed the title she’d given me, believed I’d stand beside her in the one she was still learning to claim for herself.
Believed that this—us—was becoming something she could lean into without fear. Something she could fall into and know I would catch her every single time.
Her body shifted—first tight, then a long, unspooling release.
Only once she’d eased did I let myself speak.
“It’s time to go home,” I said gently against her ear, a curl tickling my nose.
“Okay,” she nodded.
I rose with her, lifting us both before easing her onto her feet.
She gave me a weary, grateful smile.
I straightened slightly, taking control of the space between us. “So here’s what’s going to happen.”
She looked up. Listening.
“I have a strong suspicion Jennifer and the others are standing right outside your door,” I continued. “Waiting to swarm the second we walk out. When they try to follow you, I’ll step in and make it clear they can’t.”
I held her attention, letting her see the certainty there. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, taking a step toward the door, pulling it open.
I’d been right.
Her inner circle stood clustered outside—attempting to look casual.
“Hello,” I greeted, letting a bright, polished smile slip into place. “It’s nice to see you all again.”
They stared, stunned, before Jennifer stepped forward.
“You as well, Mr. Holt.” She turned to Emma. “A word, Ms. Sinclair?”
Emma opened her mouth, but I stepped in smoothly.
“Apologies for speaking on your behalf, Ms. Sinclair.” I dipped my head in a gentleman’s nod. “But we need her at Falkirk rather quickly. A few from our crisis-management division would like to meet with her.”
“I’ll get my bag,” David said immediately, already three steps down the hall.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Broughton.”
He froze mid-stride and turned, pinning me with a look. His shoulders set like a man preparing for a fight. “It’s no trouble, Mr. Holt.”
Impressive.
Emma really had chosen well.
“Unfortunately, I really must insist,” I continued, calm and immovable. “This is a delicate matter, and the fewer ears in the room, the better. Only Ms. Sinclair, myself, and one Falkirk advisor will be there.”
I paused, meeting their eyes, one by one. “You have my word. Falkirk is not pulling out. We believe in what Ms. Sinclair has built.” My expression tightened. “Things will be trickier. But I believe we’ll still move forward.”
The collective exhale was almost audible.
“As for this meeting,” I added, smoothing the last thread of tension, “it’s simply to review the leaked documents and outline a plan. Falkirk has bought Elion two weeks before any statement is required. Plenty of time to take a breath and reassess.”
David stepped forward and extended his hand.
I took it, smiling wide, and clapped his shoulder.
Emma smiled then—tired, but real. The first genuine one I’d seen since the world turned on her.
“Things will be fine,” she told them. “I truly believe Falkirk has our best interests in mind.”
A flicker of hope moved through the group.
“Okay,” Jennifer said at last, relief coloring her voice. “Please let us know if we can do anything to help.”
“Of course,” Emma said.
“Now, we’ll let you all get back to your day,” I said, dipping my head in a polite farewell before turning back to Emma. “I have a car waiting out back.”
“I appreciate your preparation, Mr. Holt,” she said—a spark of mischief lighting her expression.
And with that, we turned and walked away—leaving every shattered piece of her morning behind us.
* * *
The second Emma crossed the threshold of my home, the tension left her shoulders.
She didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t look back.
Didn’t ask.
She simply stripped out of her clothes—peeling off her blouse, her slacks, her bra—until there was nothing left but warm skin and the woman I’d crawl through fire for.
The sight wasn’t sexual.
Not even close.
It was tender—devastatingly so.
A wordless confession of trust. She felt safe here. Safe with me.
I watched her pad toward the bedroom, bare feet slapping against the floor in that endearing way of hers.
I followed—drawn, tracing the ghost of each step she took.
By the time I rounded the corner, she was already slipping into one of her soft gowns, a pretty sweep of fabric skimming her thighs, her hair twisted into a chaotic knot at the top of her head. A version of her she rarely let anyone else see.
I grabbed drinks, snacks, the small comforts I knew she clung to on days like this. By the time I was done, she was already curled on the cushions, waiting for me. The moment I sat, her head dropped into my lap. Our new normal since the night of the mugging.
The Cullens’ sterile museum of a house filled the screen only moments after, along with Alice—the only character in the entire franchise worth tolerating.
Emma reached for M&Ms, crunching through them—her jaw shifting against my thigh with each bite. By the time the film was halfway through, the candy was gone, and her body had gone still, her rhythm slow and even.
She was so close to sleep I could feel it.
My fingers threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp in slow, gentle strokes.
Her phone lit up from its place balancing on her hip—bright as a flare in the dim room. I snatched it, prepared to intercept anything from the press or Elion.
Instead: Candace.
I swiped to answer.
“Hey. Emma’s sleeping. What’s up?”
“Oh, thank god.” Relief poured through the line.
Emma stirred beside me, blinking awake. “Who’s that?”
I brushed her hair back. “Candace.”
She reached blindly, palm open. I placed the phone in her hand.
She lifted it to her ear, face still pressed to my leg. “Hey,” she croaked. Then listened.
Her expression shifted. “Um… okay.”
Another pause.
Her brows pinched, then smoothed.
Finally: “Yeah. Five is fine.”
Every nerve went on alert.
I leaned down, voice low. “Five for what?”
She waved me off without looking at me, still listening to Candace.
Then: “Damien’s. I’ll text you the address.”
My brow pulled tight.
She ended the call and let the phone fall on the coffee table with a sound of pure exhaustion.
“What was that about?”
She rubbed her face. “Candace feels bad and wants to ‘show her support.’ With food.”
The air quotes practically dripped skepticism.
Support.
Food.
At my home.
At five.
I was going to throw up.
“Okay,” I managed, forcing down the words that wanted to rip free.
Hell no. Not tonight. Not when she is finally letting me hold the pieces together.
Instead, I asked, keeping my tone light, “Are they bringing food, or do we need to order in?”
“She’s bringing Chinese or something,” she muttered, tugging the throw blanket higher. It slipped, exposing both her feet. She scowled at it, kicked, then yanked, then kicked again. “Piece of shit,” she hissed under her breath at the fabric, fighting it like it was the source of all her problems.
I watched her struggle, this tiny storm of exhaustion and irritation wrapped in my blanket, until she finally—finally—managed to settle. Her left big toe still sticking out defiantly.
“Um, okay,” I chuckled, looking between her and the phone on the coffee table, which she certainly wouldn’t be able to reach without another MMA fight. “I’ll text her the address.”
The message pinged from my phone into the ether.