Page 202 of Deceit

I step away then lift her baggy shirt over her stomach to find wounds that mar her creamy skin.

I count them, all six angry and violent scars, and drop the fabric of material as if I just suffered one of them.

A tear drops to Emmy’s cheekbone, declaring that everything she just told me, she endured. That, not only was she almost murdered by a man she trusted, but her two babies as well.

And I have nothing to say.

I can’t find words or animosity within me to act on the reason she fake died on me.

I just feel the loneliness she must’ve felt when he left her alone to die. How worried for her unborn children she would’ve been. The possible hopelessness and fear that initiated.

“They’re his kids,” Emmy notes. “That’s why I’ve been cock-blocking him. When they were born…I never picked out names. I just thought of you and how I wish everything didn’t end as it did. Alaric was my gift because I wanted you to have it. This was, of course, before the brilliant idea of Mills. And Atlas—“ A faint grin paints her face. “—she was my map home. The reminder to come back hopefully unscathed.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have,” I mutter through my taut jaw. “They’re not mine.”

“I wish that—“

“Stop.” My arm shoots up to keep her from speaking another heart-wrenching word. “You didn’t die, but you could’ve. You didn’t call me. You left me to believe that you were going to live happily ever fucking after with that rich shithead and—“

“Mills got me to the hospital safe and—“

“You fucked up royally but I guess you were always the princess, weren’t you?”

“That’s not—“ My hand clamps over her mouth as I shove her back into the wall. The gun in my other comes back up to the side of her head again and Emmy’s eyes follow it cautiously.

“I’m going to take…what you took from me,” I say slowly, making sure she hears every single one of my next promises. “I’m going to torture and fuckingkillAlexander for placing a fuckinghandon you.” I feel her mouth move to speak against my palm but it restricts her. “I don’t give a shit what you say. I don’t care that you want to do it yourself. This is what they call answering for your sins.”

Emmy’s brows furrow, making her little eyes crinkle. She’s so fucking beautiful, even with her darker hair but I miss her whitish blonde locks. I miss my innocent and sweet-looking Emmy in her cute little dresses and heels.

I miss everything.

And now that I have it, it resembles nothing like it did before.

Everything has changed. My heart and mind are so wrecked from loss that her in front of me feels fake and nightmare-ish.

“I’ll let you know where he’s buried so you can dig it up and drop it in the sea if you want to do that instead.” She violently shakes her head then stomps her foot like the brat she is. “Did you prefer your front doorstep?”

She narrows her eyes then reaches up to pull my hand down from her lips and I surprise us both when I vigorously flinch from her touch.

Then my temper takes on its full form and I full-on glare at my ex-wife.

For making me react to her the way I do because hope, faith, and love have fled and left us with betrayal, fear, and anger.

“It’s only fair,” I recite. “To take the one thing you want when you took mine away. You were the singular thing on this Earth that I would’ve bled for. I would’ve done anything, Emmy, to have you back. Now I don’t want you anymore. So it’s only fitting—“ I drop my hand and put space between the two of us. “—that I snatch your shit away.”

“He stabbedme,” she storms. “Not you!” Her index finger stabs into my chest, but I could give a shit about her temper tantrum.

I don’t answer her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Emmy shoves me backward and deeper into the room when silence answers her back. Then the click of a hammer sounds and her little 9mm appears in my face.

“You’re not listening,” she mocks with her head cocked to the side. “Something you always did but listen to me now…Alexander is mine. Take that how you want but I’ll be the one he sees last when he takes his final breath.”

“Are you gonna make me dead-dead for real, or are you gonna fake this shit too?” I step into her range then lean forward. “You’re a mother now, Emmy Lou. Are you going to shoot a live round in the place where your children are sleeping?”

I expect her to frown and recant her placing of her weapon, but she doesn’t move, nor does the deep scowl disappear off her face.

“There’s a threat in the house,” she replies. “And this time, I’m ready.”

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