Page 118 of The Grief We Hold

I grab my phone from the back pocket of my jeans while Fen does as I say. I don’t know what Marco’s plans are, but given he seems frantic, I have to assume the car outside is his and that we are in danger. I don’t have much time, so I quickly send a text to Wraith.

Me:In trouble. Help. Marco at the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Fen asks.

“Your dad is outside, and I want Axel to come help us.”

“Jesus. What’s the kid doing in there?” Marco yells from outside.

My Man:On our way.

The tight band in my chest loosens a fraction. The immediate response helps. And the wordourimplies he’s bringing some of his club with him.

“You stay in here,” I say. “Run a bath, but don’t get in it. Just let your dad think you are getting in it.”

“I’m scared.” His face is gray.

“So am I, but we can do this together. Lock the bathroom door after me and only open it for me or Axel, no matter what your dad says to you.”

Fen throws his arms around my waist. If this were one of those Reddit posts, I suppose it would ask if I’m the asshole for scaring my son when I don’t know what my ex-husband will do. But I’ll always, always put his safety first and explain later.

“Be as strong and brave as you can be, Fen. Okay?” I kiss the top of his head before leaving.

“He needs to take a bath,” I say finally when I step out and hear the door lock and water start to fill the tub. “How did you know where I was?”

“A friend I made a lot of money for owed me a favor. Cell phone towers are sparse here. Then I asked around.”

Shit. Wraith warned me that could happen when he picked me up to take me to the clubhouse that first time.

“When it gets dark, we need to leave for Seattle,” he says.

This is good news. It’s hours until darkness. I don’t know where Wraith was when he got the message, but it won’t be so far that he can’t get here for me quickly.

“We had this conversation already,” I say. “I can’t help you. I’m not leaving here. I just got settled.”

Marco looks around the apartment. “Yeah, looks like you created a palace.”

I huff. “Feels more like home than our house ever did.”

Marco scowls. “I did everything I could to create a perfect home for the two of you.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t. You pursued your own goals and got us into a mess. Is that why you’re here?”

“They aren’t going to stop looking for me until I fix it.” He pulls his coat jacket back and I see he’s carrying some kind of gun.

“If they want you, why drag me and Fen into the path of danger?”

“Because you enjoyed the money,” he shouts. “Like every other bitch expecting to be looked after.”

My jaw drops wide. “I didn’t need any of it. We were happy when we had nothing. You’re the one who got greedy. Why are there men looking for you? And who are they?”

“The Bratva. They don’t understand how investments roll. There are upswings and downswings, and the Bratva have very little tolerance for the downs.” He puts his head in his hands. “No one understands. I just need it to come back. I need to get what’s in the safe, cash in some shit, and then I’ll have enough to trade to make the money back.”

I imagine the Bratva are acutely aware of how investments work, and that my husband squandered their money in some way. “How is that my problem?”

He looks up at me. “You’ll have spousal privilege if something goes wrong. You won’t have to tell the police or lawyers what you were in the house for.”

I shake my head, losing my cool. “That’s not what spousal privilege is. And I’m not even sure that’s relevant. If you need the money, you’d have been better off driving straight there to get what you need.”

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