Page 235 of Those Who Are Bound

Elliott

“Ikilledmybrother.”She looked at him for his reaction.

After Jonah had fucked her within an inch of her life at the church, she’d collapsed into a sobbing heap in his arms. As well as she could, with her arms being tied behind her. He’d swiftly freed her and held her, comforting her. Wiped her tears. Because… Jonah. He could punish her, but he would take care of her afterward.

He took care of her even after the insanity she’d subjected him to.

It was as he was gently washing her face in the men’s room that she said sadly, “I need to tell you what I did to Gage.”

He nodded encouragingly.

“Not here. Parkville?”

So they were in Parkville, sitting at one of the tables along the river. Jonah had called ahead and ordered a pizza; he’d worked up an appetite, after all. She’d given him a sorrowful look, and he’d immediately rebuked her for it. “I had more power in that situation than you realize.”

She didn’t challenge him on it. Because deep down, she knew it. She knew he’d allowed that power exchange even though he hadn’t understood why she’d needed it. And maybe that was why she hadn’t tied his feet: she hadn’t wanted all of the control because—as he’d pointed out—she wasn’t a dominant. The whole torturous exercise of her flexing her power over him had been… theater. And he’d humored her to humble her. A bizarre smackdown for her demon, but it worked.

But to this revelation about Gage, Jonah didn’t flinch. “He killed himself.”

Elliott gave a small shake of her head. “But I made him.” As the words left her mouth, a lifetime of memories ran on a reel in her mind.

The last of them flickering on a snowy grave as she gripped the flag. She remembered the burn of tears freezing on her face, the blasts of cold wind that echoed through her bones. She never thought she’d feel warm again, and it didn’t matter. Her heart was barren, empty, torn out, and placed in the grave she’d forced her brother into. She didn’t deserve to be warm again.

Because that day…

“Get off my sister.”

The sound of Gage’s cold, deadly calm yet furious voice quickly sliced through the sensuous haze. She was instantly filled with dread, horror—a dizzying combination of it. She felt Becks tense and immediately withdraw from her.

Looking over her shoulder, body now cold and numb—the opposite of what she’d been experiencing after Becks had hogtied her and started fucking her—she gasped. Gage’s hand shook slightly as he held it to the back of Beckman’s head; the shake testified to his level of rage. Of course, it was also stamped on his face; his eyes were almost black with it.

Becks had his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Gage.” His tone was meant to be calming, a negotiator’s cadence to de-escalate.

“Don’t try to calm me down, you fucker. You practically raised us, and now you have your dick shoved in my sister. InEllie, the girl named afteryou,you sick motherfucker.”

“Gage!” Elliott cried out, finding her voice after the initial lightheadedness faded. She was no less terrified of being caught out, humiliated, but the gun… She struggled against the red ropes that restrained her.

“Don’t worry, sis, I got you.” He glanced at her for only a moment. Reaching one hand behind his neck, he pulled off his shirt quickly.

Oh, fuck, he thought…

“It’s not—” Becks started.

“What it looks like?” Gage snapped. He side-stepped to the table. He draped his shirt over her. “Because what it looks like, you cocksucker, is that you got my sister tied up. It looks like, you disgusting perv, you’re trying out some sick fantasy and using my family to do it.” He pulled at her knots, loosening them. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put this bullet in your brain right now.”

Elliott quickly sat up, hugging the shirt to herself with one arm, the red ropes still dangling from her wrist. She grabbed on to his arm, causing her to slide a bit on the table toward him. “Gage,” she said quietly, tears in her voice.

“It’s okay, sis. I’ll bury this motherfucker.”

Oh god, he really would. Everything in her crumbled at his faith in her, but she knew Becks didn’t deserve it. In a small, pleading voice, she said, “It wasn’t him.”

It took a beat for him to realize what she said; what she meant. His laser glare on Becks shifted briefly when he blinked. “What?”

“I asked him to do it… it wasn’t him. It was… my fantasy.” She sucked in a breath at the same time she rested her hand on his wrist, gently pressing, urging him to lower the gun. “Please, Gage, it wasn’t him.”

She watched her brother as he processed the message, keeping a watchful eye on Beckman.

Daring a glance over, she saw a look of resignation pass over Becks’s face. Then shame; his regret. He was looking between her and Gage, offering nothing more in that moment, also allowing Gage to process the information.But there was nothing more for him to offer: this was on her, and she knew it.

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