Page 139 of Endgame
I hope, more than anything, that this trip will get me what I need the most.
That no matter how painful it might be, I’ll come home tonight with the key to my husband’s heart.
25
AURORA
The taxi dropped me off outside my childhood home minutes ago, and I’ve been standing here since, gathering the courage to walk in.
Or maybe I’m waiting for my collar to buzz. It’s useless, wishing for that.
I must be out of Everett’s reach. There’s no tracker on me either, or Cormac would’ve been here by now.
Everett would’ve been here. Because he has feelings for me.
That’s the reason I’m here, isn’t it? His soft touch late at night. His whispered words that he doesn’t want me to hear.
I have to be brave if I ever want us to be more than that.
God, he must be furious.
His jaw must work. Fists clenching.
He must think I’ve run away for good.
I run my fingers over my rings, drawing comfort from every diamond facet. From the smooth gold wedding band.
He might punish me for this stunt. He’d do it in ways that’d leave me crying and screaming for him to stop.
Denied orgasms. Extreme humiliation sessions. Ignoring me for weeks.
I’d take anything from him. I’d wait out the storm.
Then maybe we could actually talk. About everything. I hope.
God, I hate this place.
I can’t wait to tell Everett I didn’t want to come here.
This conversation, I wish I’d have with him instead of my dad.
Unfortunately, Molly and Winston are my last resort. If Winston is even here. It’s too early, unless he’s working from home. Or—fuck, I’m blabbering inside my own head.
My pulse quickens as I approach the access control keypad by the gates. I’m shivering from head to toe.
I’m also running out of time.
Once Everett gets over how angry he is, he’ll come here. He’ll realize I didn’t have any other options since I’m not supposed to have money on me.
Punching in the code makes the tall metal gates glide open without a sound. As I step past them, the front door cracks open in the distance.
I don’t even see who’s in there, and I’m already flinching. My instinctive reaction to years of abuse.
Breathe, Aurora. Breathe.
Air in. Air out. I walk faster. Make myself stand taller.
This is for Everett. For both of you.
