Emily scoffs. “Who cares about degrees and fancy accolades? When I had the knowledge I needed, I dropped out and setto work finding the love of my life.” She looks at Aron with obsession in her eyes. “I see you moving closer, baby. You don’t have to be shy. I still love you, even after your filthy betrayal.”
Damn. I guess I didn’t have her as distracted as I thought.
“You keep talking about betrayal like you’ve never done it yourself,” he says, freezing in place just out of reach of her knife.
“I told you, baby, I didn’t know we shared a father.”
“You said that, yes, but the facts don’t align with your story.” His every muscle is taut, coiled, ready to move at the first opportunity.
She pouts. “You don’t trust me.”
“Not as far as Maria can throw you.”
The mention of their daughter may have been a mistake on Aron’s part. Something shifts in her expression. It’s subtle but undeniable: the obsession has morphed into pure hatred.
“You took my baby girl away from me,” she snaps, shoving Percy to the ground at her feet and advancing on Aron with the knife, poised to attack. “That bastard enforcer of yours may have done the deed, but you gave the order.”
Before Emily can change her mind, I grab Percy’s collar and drag him behind me. He coughs and rubs his throat, which is already showing signs of bruising. Keeping my gun trained on Emily, I squat down and check Percy’s back. The cut appears to be superficial. As long as Emily doesn’t explode, he’ll be okay.
“You’re damn right I gave the order. I couldn’t leave my daughter in the hands of a cold-hearted, manipulative bitch.”
A squeal of shock pierces the air, and Emily steps closer to Aron. For each step she takes towards him, he inches back, but soon he’ll run out of room. She’ll have him backed against the window, and now she’s too close for him to have time to open it and jump.
Everything’s fucked. With Emily here, we can’t initiate the order to take out the Empire, nor can we call off the operation.Our hands are effectively tied. I want to shoot her, to fucking end her miserable, twisted life, but unless her bomb is a bluff, I’d risk blowing us all up in the process.
Could it be a bluff? Would Emily really risk orphaning her daughter for revenge?
Time to reassess.
Emily’s nuts, but some part of her wants her daughter back. Is that part, the maternal, nurturing Emily, strong enough to override her psychopathy? It would be a gamble at this point to find out, unless …
“Emily.”
Her head whips around, but she doesn’t fully turn away from Aron. “What?”
“Tell me about Maria. I never got the chance to meet my niece.”
A small muscle in Emily’s jaw starts to tic. Her grip on the knife loosens a fraction, and her shoulders relax beneath the bloody raincoat. Did my tactic work?
The seconds tick by as her eyes dart between Aron and me. This could tip her over the edge either way.
I’ve either just saved us or doomed us all.
Finally, Emily breaks out in what would be a serene smile if not for the blood covering her face.
“Oh, Mattie, she’s perfect. She has our mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair. She’s going to be a stunner when she grows up. Aron will have to fight the boys off with a stick.”
Her arm holding the knife lowers, and I risk moving a couple of steps forward, hoping she interprets the motion as my taking interest in her words.
“Even this young, you can see the intelligence in her eyes. She looks at everything with such wonder and amazement. She’ll be a philosopher or an artist, I’m sure of it.”
“She sounds amazing.”
Another two steps. To keep up the façade of interest, I allow the barrel of my gun to drop an inch or two. Just enough to seem like I’m starting to trust her, but not so much that I can’t act if need be.
“Don’t forget to tell him about her smile, Em.”
Aron must have picked up on what I’m doing. He’s playing along, goading her into continuing.
