Page 108 of Borden 3

I tried so hard not to think about it. I didn’t want to relive the sounds of the crunching, or the awkward angle in which Miles’ body hit the ground.

I choked the water down as I gaped at the table where a plate of mudcake sat, wrapped in gladwrap, waiting for me. My eyes filled with tears. Granny. I moved to it, despite looking and feeling like a mess, despite seeing Theo beat a boy until he was bleeding and unconscious—

I sat down at the table and I unwrapped the mudcake.

I cried like a baby as I ate it.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Emma

Hector didn’t come home with us. The bikers took care of him despite his initial reluctance. The ride back with Borden was quiet. He watched me intermittently as he drove. His gaze lingered on me at traffic stops; I felt dissected, like he was trying desperately to get into my head.

I didn’t want him to see the havoc. My mind was a mess and I was emotional. I wanted to see Link. I just needed to see that he was okay. I kept thinking of Stasia. Of her little hands, her scarred face, the way she watched me tentatively as I ate, like she was experiencing it with me.

I needed to understand what was wrong with her because the same thing was wrong with Theo. There was something…off about them. Despite his arrogance, Theo’s first instinct was to stare down the corridor where her bedroom was. That was not the action of a man that didn’t care for his daughter.

“Is she going to be my mommy?”

My breath held in my lungs at the memory.

It was almost four in the morning when we arrived at the big black gates of our estate. I stared numbly at Borden’s men as they watched us enter. Some of the men were visibly armed, roaming the grounds in plain sight. I’d never seen so many at home before.

Before Borden had even turned off the engine, I’d climbed out of the car and hurried to the house. My sole mission was to see Link. Everything else didn’t matter. I entered the house, my breaths ragged as I climbed the long staircase, my legs shuddering from the bruising and tiredness.

Lincoln’s white noise machine was on. It calmed me just hearing it as I approached his room, my lips trembling. I stared at Link’s little body asleep in his bed. Near tears, I felt like I was barely hanging on. I looked around his room, at all his toys and the mess he’d made when Granny looked after him here. Borden said he’d rounded her and Link here while he’d been out to get me. I was glad she wasn’t awake. I wouldn’t have been able to keep it together in front of her.

I’d always hated this fucking house, but now…now I felt a little better seeing the home we were building. The mess and the imperfections, the little joys on the walls Link had stuck his drawings on. I wished there were more of them. I thought of Stasia’s door—of her rainbow scribbles, her adorable attempt at writing her name—and a lump formed in my throat.

Swallowing it down, I pushed away from the door and turned around. I stilled. Patiently waiting on the other end, in front of our bedroom, stood Borden. He looked haunted under the dim light. His face was raw from utter exhaustion. His hair was in disarray. It was a look I was getting to know pretty well from my husband, but tonight it seemed all the more amplified by the deep vulnerability in his eyes as he stared at me.

He seemed unnerved by my quiet. He kept waiting for me to talk, and I was saying nothing.

I walked to him, trying my hardest not to wince at the bruises. I needed to get out of my tattered clothes and inspect myself closely. I stopped in front of him, peering up at him. His plump lips were pursed. He looked me over, and I could tell he wanted to touch me. Wanted to hold me desperately. But his nostrils flared instead, and darkness overtook him. He turned away and stomped into the bedroom. I followed after him, catching the wide space he was putting between us. He took a seat on the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared numbly at a spot on the floor.

I sat down next to him.

We said nothing, and then it seemed, as the silence mounted by the second, that it was like we were saying everything all at once.

He rubbed his stubbled cheeks. Fisted his hand. Blew out a breath. He started contritely, “Emma…”

“Don’t,” I whispered, weakly.

“I came close to losing you.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t.”

“Emma.” His voice was hard.

I got up. “I need to shower, Borden.”

I stiffly walked to the bathroom, feeling his eyes on every part of me.

“I made a promise to you in this very bed,” he said, halting me in my tracks. “I broke it.”

I turned around. “You can’t control everything, Borden. When will you get that? There will always be a threat.”

“I’ll kill it.”

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