Page 72 of Split

“So, he sent me here to die,” she finally murmurs, her voice strained.

I nod solemnly in confirmation.

Her throat bobs with a harsh swallow, wild eyes darting back and forth. “Well, I’ll finish the job for him, then,” she decides, swinging her arm up and pressing the barrel of the handgun to her temple.

“Eliza,no…” Knox breathes, his knees hitting the hardwood, fingers sinking into his hair.

I’ve never heard such raw desperation in my brother’s voice; never seen him fall to his knees for anyone before.She’s different.He said it himself, and it’s never been more apparent than in this very moment. Like me, Knox has always thought himself incapable of compassion. And like me, this woman has managed to work her way so deep into his system that she’s somehow rewired it. She’s irrevocably altered us both.

“Why not?” she cries out, fresh tears tracking down her face as her trembling index finger moves to rest on the curve of the trigger. “Isn’t this how it ends for us?”

“No,” I say sternly, jaw straining under the effort it takes to retain my composure.“You’reours, Eliza. We protect what’s ours.” Holding her eye contact, I begin to move slowly and purposefully across the room in her direction, calmly reaching for the gun. “We won’t let anyone take you from us, not even yourself.”

A shuddered sob racks her body as she allows me to confiscate the weapon, arms falling limply to her sides as I flick on the safety and tuck it into the waistband of my slacks. Eliza crumples to the floor in a heap of sullied chiffon, pulling her knees to her chest and choking on her tears.

Before I can make any move to comfort her, Knox abruptly shoulders past me, stooping down to scoop Eliza’s trembling body up into his arms. It’s a move so unlike him that all I can do is watch in a suspended state of disbelief as he holds her tight to his chest and pushes up to his full height, starting across the room.

Whispering words of reassurance meant for only her ears, Knox carries her over to the bed, lays her down upon it, and presses a kiss to the very temple she just had a gun pressed against. Then, with more care than I’ve ever seen him exhibit, he situates her beneath the comforter before kicking off his shoes and slipping into bed behind her.

I blow out a slow breath, allowing some of the tension to drain from my muscles now that the threat has passed. Eliza is safe, and I plan to keep her that way. Right now, she needs rest, and it looks like my brother has this well in hand.

I dart one last glance in their direction before striding to the door and slipping out of the room. Closing it quietly behind me, I release a long exhale as I press my back against the polished wood, sliding down to the floor and burying my face in my hands.

That was too close.

Alina was an insufferable narcissist, but neither of us wanted her to die. What happened to her took a toll, and I had no interest in taking another wife for fear that it’d happen again. My cold, dead heart started beating again when she put that gun to her head. It hasn’t stopped since, and it now feels like it’s going to burst from my chest.

If this is what it’s like to truly care for someone, I don’t want any part of it. If only I could banish these foreign emotions by sheer will.

I used to think caring for someone meant making their life comfortable, and as much as I abhorred the idea of marrying again, I did that for Eliza. I purchased the finest clothes and beauty products, paid attention to which foods she preferred so we could stock the kitchen with them. I instructed Clara to make sure her morning coffee was to temperature each day so she wouldn’t burn the roof of her mouth; one of my biggest pet peeves. I didn’t deny her a single thing.

There’s nothing I despise more than feeling out of control. Every aspect of my life is regimented, every detail carefully calibrated. I can no longer control the way I feel for my wife, and as I comb over my memories of our time together, I’m struggling to pinpoint exactly when she became more to me than a business arrangement.

I’m trapped in that endless loop of thoughts when the pressure against my back suddenly slackens, the door slowly opening from inside. I curl forward, glancing up to see my brother standing above me, the exhaustionof the evening etcheddeeply in his features. He can’t resist passing judgment on the position he’s found me in, though, raising a dark brow as a smirk touches his lips.

Pushing to my feet, I blow out a measured breath and swivel to face Knox as he pulls the door closed behind him.

“She cried herself to sleep,” he mumbles quietly.

I jerk a nod, tipping my head in the direction of the foyer. “Drink?”

Knox snorts a wry laugh, clapping a hand down on my shoulder and leaning in. “Make it a double, brother.”

31

ELIZA

Iwake to the low hum of voices rumbling outside my door, squinting my heavy lids open to find the interior of my bedroom bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Pushing against the mattress, I prop myself up on my elbows and swing my gaze around, struggling to discern why this familiar room suddenly appears so strange to me. Slowly, realization begins to dawn that the curtains haven’t been pulled over the windows. For the first time, they’re open wide, chasing away the dark shadows that usually haunt me here at night.

It's fitting, considering the shroud has also just been pulled from my eyes. After tonight’s series of revelations, it’s as if I’m finally seeing things clearly for the first time, and they look startlingly different through the lens of truth.

My childhood.

My marriage.

My future.

I suppose that last one is still up to chance, but at least now I know my husbandisn’tintent on murdering me any time soon. To the contrary, both he and his twin seem to care a great deal about preventing my imminent death. They took out myassassin; took the gun from my trembling hand.Do devils have hearts?

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