“What’s on the wrong side of midnight?” he asked once, serious enough that his father understood he wasn’t being flippant.
“Nothing good. Bad dreams and bad ideas. Stay on the right side of midnight and life will treat you well.”
At a quarter ’til, they pulled into Liam’s circle drive. Emory collected a shell-shocked Amelia from the car and led her by the hand inside. The foyer was dark save the parlor’s light seeping across the floor. Emory collapsed to a settee against the foyer’s far wall and pulled Amelia down with him.
Relief drained him, the fatigue all-consuming and painful in its own right. He nursed the urge to fall asleep with Amelia in his arms and wake when the nightmare ended. It didn’t work that way. The only way out was through.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked and surveyed her injuries.
Before she could answer, he pushed the blood-soaked shirt from her shoulder. Earlier, he’d noticed the stain and its coppery scent but not the gruesome bite beneath.
Amelia yanked the shirt back in place. She wrapped her arms around his middle and burrowed her face into his chest. On the ride back, she’d been alarmingly calm. Safely home, she came apart with a shuddering cry. The bite was just the beginning. Ivan branded her with something else—the same terror he’d planted in Mirabelle, the kind Emory couldn’t seem to chase away.
“I got you. You’re okay,” he soothed. The tighter he held her, the harder she shook. “We made it.”
Emory loosed a sigh that ached in his chest. The house stirred around them as the men clambered in and Mirabelle rushed down the stairs. They ignored the others and held onto one another.
“The things he was going to do to me,” Amelia whispered. Tears clung to her lashes and broke free as she shook her head. “What if he comes again? What if he?—”
Emory pressed his mouth to hers to stop the flow of words. Her bottom lip was busted, just like his, so blood laced the kiss.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I’d set the whole goddamn world on fire and watch it burn before I’d let anyone hurt you. Not him, not anyone.”
In his periphery, the parlor light ebbed and flowed as Corey paced the floor. The other men had gathered there too. Pete dipped into the foyer, his face a mask of dread.
“Chief, sorry to interrupt. We need to talk to you.”
This shit never ends.“Do we really have to do this now? Whatever it is can wait.”
“It’s just?—”
“It can fucking wait!” he snapped, ready to come out of his skin again if it meant finding an escape.
Amelia had him on borrowed time and glanced at the parlor where the others waited. Pete retreated, but his intrusion had already poisoned the well.
Emory rested his forehead against hers. “They can wait,” he whispered.
But for how long? The parlor stirred with unrest, and Liam’s voice rose with atypical heat.I don’t want to be here.Emory stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut. With the adrenaline wearing off, pain exploded at his cheek and radiated across his shoulders.
“You’re hurt,” Amelia said softly. He nodded. “Where?” she asked.
Heaviness grew in his chest. It was always there, never really went away. He learned to live with its gravity and all the ways it weighed him down. He didn’t dwell on where it came from or when it started. Some part of him already knew.
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.” His voice cracked with age-old hurts, the rotten things he buried so they wouldn’t eat him alive. In the foyer, in the dark, they devoured him. “We need to leave. We need to get out of here.”
Emory eyed the front door. Why had it never occurred to him to set himself free? No one expected him to bolt. They never would. He patted his pocket and his car keys there. Phone in his back pocket. Wallet in his car. Amelia in his arms. Everything he needed was within reach.
“Let’s just go.” Emory took her hand and went to stand, but Amelia held onto him with surprising strength and forced him to sit.
She lifted her hands to his cheeks, her touch soft and honey in the look she gave. Everything about her came slathered in that sweetness. Even now with a busted lip and mangled shoulder, smelling of blood and sweat, and with mascara streaking hercheeks, she treated him tenderly in spite of the horrors she’d endured. The world needed strength like hers. He needed it too.
“Emory, what are you talking about? We can’t leave.”
He shook his head and covered over her hands at his cheeks with his own. Since when did she invest in the lie that he couldn’t walk away?Since you brought her into this. Since you made her believe.
“Run away with me. Please. We’ll go somewhere he can’t find us.”
The frenzy started up again, an animal pacing the cage. Desperation clouded his judgment, and he had no business hatching plans so close to the wrong side of midnight. He didn’t care and would gladly disregard logic just to be set free.
