I don’t know which emotion was more prominent when he looked back and waved at me, initiating a goodbye neither of us knew was going to be forever, but I like to think it was the pride.
God, I hope it was the pride.
“Do you remember the last time you saw him?”
My voice is a haunted, rasping whisper from all the screaming and crying last night, but the car is quiet so Aubrey hears me. His brows jump in surprise that I’m the one who brokefirst. We’ve been in the car for a little over fifteen minutes. I haven’t said a word since I agreed to come with him, and he had his men drag me out of the house. I don’t know why this is the opener I’ve decided to go with, but it feels right because the only thing I want to discuss with Aubrey is AJ.
“Who?”
After everything I’ve learned about this man over the last twenty-four hours, nothing he says or does should surprise me. And I’m not surprised by his question; I’menragedby it. I fly across the seat screaming curses as I scratch and claw and punch whatever part of him I can get my hands on. Beating the fuck out of him is much more satisfying than slapping the shit out of Jordan, but it doesn’t last nearly as long as I’d like because a cocked gun appears at my temple after I send his head flying into the window a second time.
The cool metal awakens the quiet fear I’ve carried in my body since November, and I shrink away from it as fast as I can. I crawl back to my seat, noting how my knuckles ache and the skin on my forearms burns from Aubrey digging his nails into me like the little bitch that he is.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he roars, unraveling the knot of his silk tie with one hand while he pinches his nostrils closed with the other. He’s squeezing hard, but drops of blood still escape, splattering on the crisp white of his shirt the way the raindrops did to my windshield that day.
I smile at the correlation, finding an odd kind of peace in it even though there’s still a gun pointed in my direction and a man who’s proven he’s capable of murder glaring at me from across the seat. He balls up his navy silk tie, wincing as he presses it to his nose.
“You’re a fucking lunatic, you know that?”
“Me?”
“Yes, Selene, you.” The blood is flowing faster than the silk can soak it up, turning the luxurious fabric a deep purple. Aubrey throws it down and punches the headrest of the driver’s seat. “Fuck! Why can’t you just be normal for once?”
“What exactly would that entail, Aubrey? Orchestrating the murder of my only son in order to advance my career? Conspiring to assassinate a sitting President to protect that secret? Being dumb enough to say no to the man who bankrolled all of those endeavors and getting my girlfriend killed?”
The slap happens so quickly I don’t even see it coming. One second, I’m pushing the last syllable of my question out of my mouth and the next his knuckles are colliding with my teeth.That’swhen it becomes real to me. The decision I’ve made. The danger I’ve put myself in. The distance between the man I married and the one who just back handed me.
Black spots float in my vision as I bring trembling hands to my stinging lips and wobbling chin. Tears. There are tears skating down my cheeks, squeezing under my fingers, salt searing split flesh.
“Youhitme.”
All these years. All these secrets. All the pain he’s caused and goodness he’s stolen from me, and still, I’m shocked. Hurt. Broken. My lashes flutter rapidly as I process this new reality that shouldn’t feel new at all. He’s proven himself a monster, so why am I surprised that he has claws?
“You’ve never hit me,” I whisper, voice breaking stupidly. He’s been flirting with idea of it for so long. His hands too tight around my arms in the hotel room after the debate. His eyes wild and angry as he shoved me against the wall. His fingers splayed wide and reaching for my neck in the East Sitting Hall.
The desire is not new.
Not at all.
But there’s a difference between seeing it on his face and feeling the force of his fury when he’s finally found the courage to act on it.
“You fucking attacked me, and you’re surprised that I hit you?”
A crazed laugh spills out of me, using the spaces between my fingers to find their place in the tense air. I drop my hands, sending blood and saliva flying in his direction when the laugh morphs into a cough because my throat is raw.
Aubrey’s disgust is palpable. “What’s so funny?”
I clutch my ribs, ignoring the way the cut on my top lip burns a little more with every passing moment. “You, Aubrey. You’re funny. Yesterday I found out that you had my son killed, andyou’resurprised thatIhit you? I should have done a lot worse. I’mgoingto do a lot worse,” I promise him.
His nose is no longer actively bleeding, but the evidence of my anger is still there. In the welts on his face and neck. In the red crust around his nostrils and dried blood on his shirt.
“AJ was my son too, Selene. Don’t forget that.”
Anger swells in my chest, pushing against my ribcage, and threatening to crush what’s left of my heart if I don’t let it out. It leaves me in a guttural scream that’s wrapped in maternal outrage.
“DON’T YOUR DARE SAY HIS NAME!”
“You need to lower your voice, ma’am,” the man with his gun still trained on me says.
