Chapter 39 I Am Home
I Am Home
Emily
Glass smashes downstairs.
What was that?
My heart races as I jolt upright in the bed.
I look to my left, but Eli’s space is unoccupied, his side cold and unused.
A faint memory of him telling me he was leaving flicks through my mind.
Has he just gotten back and dropped something in the kitchen?
I strain to listen. There’s nothing but the drum of my heartbeat and uneven breaths.
But then there’s a definite clank coming from somewhere in the house.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I grab a robe from the back of the door and wrap it around my body.
I swipe my phone up from where it’s charging and hit Eli’s number.
“Angel?”
“Are you home?”
“No, I just finished. The traffickers are officially all gone. I’ll be home in an hour.”
“Okay.” I can’t stop the wobble to my voice.
“Why did you think I was home, Em?”
I hesitate, then sigh. “I heard something.”
“Something?”
“I think someone is in the house,” I tell him, whimpering slightly.
“Angel.” His voice wavers, fear clearly gripping him. “I want you to lock the bedroom door, barricade it if you have to, and wait for me to get home. Let me check the cameras.”
I don’t want to investigate for myself. But if it’s not Eli, Graham is somewhere unprotected in the house. That knowledge forces me to slowly open the bedroom door and poke my head out, looking left and right.
“Angel, why did it sound like you just opened the door?”
I don’t answer, but I know he can hear the labouring of my breath.
"Angel." His tone is biting. "You need to stay put. Please." A whispered plea.
I should listen. But instead, I slip the phone into my pocket, leaving the call on.
The noises grow louder downstairs.
My throat dries.
Each step down—closer—has my pulse spiking to a dangerous level. Shivers run up and down my spine.
Whoever is here is clearly in the kitchen. The sound of the footsteps and clattering, as if they're searching for something, grows louder the closer I get.
In the hall, I grab an umbrella to use as a weapon—just in case. I wish I had time to get to Eli’s interrogation room and grab something that would actually help me, but I don’t want to give them time to realise I’m awake.
Just as I get inside the kitchen doorway, the intruder speaks.
“Gatto stupido,1” they hiss. I recognise the voice at the same moment I see her.
Gia.
She looks exactly as I remember her—dark, cropped hair, frown lines on either side of her mouth and eyes. Eyes that have always been so dark they’re almost black. She’s dressed in a black hoodie and joggers, hiding the bulky muscles I know are underneath. Gia was never dainty.
She’s standing on the other side of the table, a knife waving in one hand, while Graham faces her, snarling. I know cats don’t snarl. But that’s the only way I can explain the venomous noise coming from his tiny throat.
The floorboard beneath me creaks, which snaps Gia’s attention to me.
“Emily,” she grouses. “Tell your cat to stand down.”
I cross my arms in front of me, narrowing my eyes. “I think he’s doing a good job. Why are you breaking into my house?” Now is not the time to address that I just admitted to Eli’s house being mine too.
Gia scowls, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the blade. One that comes from our knife stand. “Sono qui per riportarti a casa.2”
“I am home.” I refuse to respond in Italian.
Her expression darkens further, malice creeping in. “You’re coming home with me, even if I have to drag you back.”
“Why now Gia? It’s been a year.”
“Se non posso averti io, non potrà averti nessun altro.3” She moves towards me, but Graham growls. She glares at him. “Especially not some man.”
I shake my head. “You can’t just claim me as yours.” The irony isn’t lost on me. Still not the time.
Graham howls at Gia, and she snaps; the knife slashes towards him.
I don’t even think before I’m running. The umbrella in my arms is raised, ready to strike.
A sharp pain in my side erupts as the metal connects.
She doesn’t stab me, but blood drips as the serrated edge grazes, cutting through the robe, nicking my skin.
“I didn’t want to do that,” Gia states as I scoop Graham into my arms and back-up towards the cabinets.
“Gia, you need to leave. I won’t press charges. Just get out.” I try to reason with her.
Her face just fills with rage.
Then she’s charging at me. At us.
I throw Graham in the direction of the door as she reaches me, desperate to save him. The knife stabs into my thigh. I cry out.
Gia comes at me again, but I kick out, ignoring the excruciating pain. She falls back, and I limp away as quickly as I can. Graham stands in the kitchen doorway where he fell.
Grabbing him back into my arms I attempt to get to the front door, but Gia comes barrelling at me and the staircase is closer. I scramble up the steps, tripping and slipping as my wound throbs and my heart pounds painfully.
It takes effort, but I throw Graham into our bedroom and lock the door, keeping him safe, then I drag myself to the spare. I turn around to lock it. Fuck. There isn’t one.
And this room is empty. No furniture to block the entrance.
My fingers shake as I pull my phone from my pocket, my thumb hitting the speaker button, as my back slips down the wall on the furthest side of the room
“Angel!?” Eli shouts, his voice muffled slightly.
“I’m here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I—”
“I’ll fucking kill her.”
“Eli,” I whimper, seeking comfort in his voice, even if it is through the phone.
“I’m almost home, Em. Hold on until I’m there. I’ll make this right.”
“I’m trying.” Hot tears slide down my cheeks, my mouth filling with salt. “She was going to hurt Graham.”
There’s a deep, angry rumble. “Please—”
The door crashes open, swinging so forcefully it clatters against the wall.
Gia screams, rushing at me.
My legs are too slow to get me back on my feet. Her hand gasps my hair, tugging me up, before throwing me back to the floor, my body rolling across the wood.
“ANGEL!” Eli’s voice screams from my phone, which I dropped in the struggle.
Gia picks it up. “Non puoi averla, stronzo4,” she sneers into the microphone before throwing the device at the wall. It smashes, glass fragments littering the floor.
I know if I don’t stop her, she’s going to kill me. And that is a scary thought. But the one that haunts me more is knowing she wouldn’t stop with me. It’s not Eli I’m worried about—between the two of them, Eli would come out on top. But she’s always hated Graham. And he’s always hated her.
She will go after him once I’m gone just to spite me.
And I can’t let that happen.