Page 63 of Redemption's Inferno

“He doesn’t want to be found,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. “Either he’s dead or he’s gone underground for a reason.”

“Then I’ll find out the reason.” Joe stood up. “And he’s not dead, Emilie. If he was dead, I would know.”

She nodded. “I hope you’re right.” Her stomach churned at the thought and the moment the door closed behind him, she emptied the contents into the wastebasket next to her desk.

* * *

For days, Emilie didn’t sleep. She would take cat naps at her desk or in the chair in Dante’s office, but she never truly slept, and wouldn’t even go into their bedroom. As word spread Chains had left her, friends and family rallied around her, but only Joe, Dante and Becca knew the truth. It took all her resolve not to break down and tell Viggo and Jamie, but Chains had drilled the importance of playing her cards close to her vest in the event something happened to him. Her pain was palpable, though, and while she valiantly stuck to the story about him leaving her, inside she was coming apart. Not knowing whether or not he was alive was more excruciating than anything she’d felt after Adam’s death. She hadn’t cared about Adam other than as a human being; Chains was part of her and without him she was slowly spiraling back to where she’d been when he’d found her in London, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Em?” Jamie found her on the couch on Christmas night. Friends and family had gone home, food and gifts had been put away, and everyone else was asleep.

She looked up, her blue eyes haunted, her face growing more and more gaunt with each passing day.

“Sweetie, you can’t keep doing this,” he whispered, sitting beside her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking care of the baby.”

“I’m not worried about the baby,” he said tightly, scowling at her. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said, patting his hand. “Just not sleeping well. You know that.”

“Emilie.” He lifted her chin gently with his fingers, looking into her eyes. “You’re not a woman with a broken heart—you’re a woman whose soul is gone. Tell me the truth…is Chains dead?”

She swallowed, her mind screaming to tell him as tears puddled in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered, squeezing his leg. “Please, don’t…it’s dangerous for all of us—I can’t!” Sobs wrenched free even as she strained to stop them.

“Oh, honey… Jesus, I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her like a child. “Whatever it is, don’t worry about my safety. What can I do? Tell me what I can do. Em, I’ve already survived hell—there is no other hell for me unless someone hurts you, Viggo or the baby. Tell me what’s happening.”

“I, I, c-can’t.” She sobbed pitifully, her fists against his chest.

“Em?” Viggo padded into the room in nothing but his boxers, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and staring at them in confusion.

Jamie looked up at his husband as he stroked her hair and held her tight, their eyes locking meaningfully.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Viggo sank down on the other side of her.

“They could come after me or Simone…or….one of you,” she gasped out. “Please…”

“Whoever they are, whatever this is, we stand together!” Viggo hissed under his breath. “Tell us!”

“Shower,” she whispered, no longer able to hold back. Since they were blinking at her in confusion, she looked from Viggo to Jamie and back. “We need to take a shower. Together.”

Understanding dawned; no one could hear their conversation with the shower running. Viggo abruptly stood and lifted her into his arms. “Yeah, right. Let’s go.”

* * *

Despite her aching heart, with Viggo and Jamie now in the know, Emilie got through each day because she was never alone. Though Viggo was at the height of hockey season, Jamie was only practicing with the team and not yet ready to play, so he was with Emilie day and night. He joined her at the club as soon as he was done with therapy and practice, took her to all her doctor’s appointments, slept beside her at night, and generally was the glue holding her together. She was hanging on by a thread emotionally and only Jamie’s constant companionship kept her from sinking into the same black darkness that had consumed her almost all of her adult life. This time, instead of guilt and shame, she felt only helpless and empty. Even the child growing inside of her brought her no relief this time; this time she was as close as she’d ever been to giving up.

When her phone rang on a brisk afternoon in late January, she picked it up without even looking at who was calling. “Yes, hello?”

“Emilie?” Dolores’ voice made her jump and she sat up straight.

“Dolores? Hello.” She cleared her throat.

“What’s happened? Why hasn’t Darryl called me since Christmas? I—”

“He called you at Christmas?” Emilie interrupted, her heart leaping into her throat. He’d still been alive at Christmas!

“Well, yes, of course.” Dolores paused. “Emilie? What is it? What’s wrong? Why didn’t you know that?”

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