Page 213 of Endgame
Gripping her chin, I dig my fingers into her until she yelps. “What’s. Wrong?”
We go back and forth like that for long seconds. I keep asking what’s wrong. She keeps telling me it’s nothing.
Enough is enough.
“Aurora.” I emphasize the word by sliding my hand around her throat, giving it a squeeze. “You better start talking. The alternative will be far more painful. Talk to me.”
“I can’t believe I’m his biological daughter.” Her cool façade breaks. Aurora’s face crumples.
Her sudden, loud sobs threaten to destroy what’s left of my sanity. They’re part screams, her visceral pain out in the open now that she’s had time to soak in the reality of her situation.
“Everett, please. Please.” Each sob that rips out of her is more guttural than the one before. “I don’t want to be his daughter. This rapist. This fucker. I want to kill him. Please, let me kill him. Please, Everett. If you love me, you’d let me kill him. Please. Please, please,please.”
She’s entitled to this. The meltdown. The pleas. The heart-wrenching sobs.
But I said it once, and I’ll say it again—I won’t let Winston win. I won’t let him steal her from me too.
“Listen to me.” After she begs me for what seems like an eternity, I choke her harder than before. “I would love nothing more than to crush his windpipe with my bare hands. To rip his organs out of his body, one by one, while he remains conscious. For you.”
“But?”
“The small risk of getting caught, of being torn apart from you…After I’ve found you…No. It isn’t worth it. We’re doing it this way. He’ll never see the light of day again, you have my word.”
Another stretch of silence, then, “How can you stand to look at me?”
“I love you.” I’m as honest as I’ve ever been. “It’s got nothing to do with how you were conceived. With who your parents are or what blood runs through your veins. I’d burn the world down for you. I’d tear down governments and spend every dime on my name to ensure you have a good life. A happy life. With me. You’re mine, the fucking end. Are we clear?”
Her nod is so fucking sad. “I love you, too, husband.”
She throws her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder. Clings to me like I’m the only steady thing left in her world.
She definitely is mine, which is why I hug her back. Hard.
“Can you—will you tell me more about Mom now? My grandparents?”
Nothing I’d love more.
Aurora listens while I hold her. She listens while I pull the covers over us.
While I curl my body behind hers, with my arms wrapped around her.
She listens until her breath grows heavier and her eyes close.
Then I get out of bed and wake up my contacts in the police department and the partners who run my family’s law firm.
You can never be too careful. Too prepared.
For Aurora, I have to be ready.
38
AURORA
Acold drop of sweat trickles down my spine as I stare at the gates of my childhood home.
A chill courses through me.
My husband wraps an arm around my shoulders, supporting me even when he’s silent, tucking me even closer to his side.
