Page 83 of Possession

“Three.”

Chapter Fifty

Rafael

Hudson won’t settle. He doesn’t like the teat on the bottle; he likes to be attached to his momma, to feel her warmth and steady beat of her heart while she nurses him with pure admiration in her eyes.

Oliver has reverted to struggling to speak. The doctor tells me it’s because of trauma, but Oliver and I know the truth. It’s due to Ellie being gone.

We’re lost, floating from one day to the next until I found myself here.

Two weeks after the events that shook my world to the core, my father called me to his basement.

The woman I was forced to marry, my wife, is sniveling in her snot and piss, strapped to a chair. The woman that helped orchestrate my family’s demise at my girl’s expense. Kai worked tirelessly alongside Oscar O’Connell, and after my threats of violence against his family and reminding him of his nephew’s interference in finding Ellie and Hudson, he finally relented. Not twenty-four hours later, here she is.

My father stands behind her, like an avenger staking his claim. “Kendal was feeding intel to the police, telling them about our warehouse shipments.” My father’s gruff voice echoes off the walls of the basement, and I nod at his words, already knowing her involvement, thanks to Rocco. “We were meant to trust her.”

All I can do is nod at my father’s frustration.

Then he yanks Nikita’s head back by her hair, forcing her to face me.

“Rafael. Rafael, you promised you’d never hurt me,” she whines. “If you do this, you’ll be hurting Oliver.” I flinch at my son’s name on her poisonous tongue.

When we discovered Nikita was helping her half-sister Kendal to get rid of Ellie in order for Kendal to get closer to me, she was benefiting by positioning herself back in my family. Text messages between the two of them showed promises of a continual flow of money and fake custody agreement papers. She would never hand Oliver over to me, and she would keep silent until she needed to use it.

My fist twitches from the stitches I required as a result of me shattering a glass table after discovering the devious bitch had played us.

I take the gun from behind my back, and she gasps as her body quakes with the fear I’m instilling in her. My hand trembles as I raise the gun.

“Think of Oliver, Rafael. He’ll grow up to hate you. Knowing you murdered his mother, he’ll never forgive you.”

Jesus, I wish she’d shut up; I wish I could block out the noise of her words slicing through me like the knife that tore into Kendal as my girl tried so bravely to protect our sons. Her words wound me, and she fucking knows it.

I crack my neck, desperate to relieve the budding tension as the anxiety ripples through me at the potential aftermath. There’s nothing I want more in the world than to protect my family, to have my sons look up to me with pride in their eyes. But at what cost? To hurt my oldest when he finds out the twisted truth?

“He’ll find out. Oliver will find out and hate you for it.”

“Rafael.” My father’s stern voice pulls my stare away from her. He strokes over his chin as if deep in thought, then looks at me pointedly, the intensity of his stare so deep it steals the air from my lungs momentarily. “Rafael, sometimes we have to endure the pain to save our children from the repercussions. Sometimes we risk hurting our sons in order to protect them. But what we do is we shoulder that pain, and it allows us to remain standing beside them. Do you understand?”

My mind whirls at my father’s words. He took my mother’s life to protect me, and it affected him more than I ever believed. By taking her life, we’re all here today.

My spine straightens and I stand taller. “You’re wrong, Nikita. One day, Oliver will thank me for this, as I should have done with my father.”

I pull the trigger.

Ellie

Six weeks later.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking, Rafael.”

“Mm, I know. But I want to carry you.” He nuzzles his nose into my hair as he cradles me in his arms like an invalid. “Besides, I want to carry you over the threshold, wife.” I feel him smile against my neck. The moment I was able to whisper, “I do,” Rafael demanded we were getting married. I was in my hospital gown, no less.

“Mamma!” Oliver pulls the door open for us and motions with grabby hands toward Rafael.

“Just wait, buddy. I need to put Mommy in her bed.”

“Upstairs?” His words have been clearer lately, and I couldn’t be prouder. The time I spent recovering in the hospital gave me plenty of time to concentrate on helping him with his language skills. Rafael even had the staff put a cot in the room for Oliver to sleep next to me, as he refused to leave me.

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