“So good of you to join us, son,” he murmurs.
And standing there, helpless, with Emmy trapped between us like a living shield, I know with bone-deep certainty:
If I make the wrong move…
She dies.
And my father won’t just pull the trigger.
He’ll smile while he does it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emmy
My gaze collides with Khai’s.
The fury in his eyes is unmistakable, raw, lethal, but beneath it burns something far worse. Fear. Uncertainty. The kind that has no place in a man like him, and yet it’s there, undeniable, because of me.
My lungs burn.
His father’s arm is locked too tightly around my throat, crushing just enough to remind me how fragile I am in his grasp. I fight for air, but all I manage are shallow, broken breaths that barely reach my chest. The edges of my vision blur and darken, the room tilting as panic claws its way up my spine.
Stay awake.
Stay here.
I try to speak, to ground myself in the sound of his name, inhim.
“Khai…”
The word slips out fractured and weak, more breath than voice, but his eyes flare instantly, like the sound of it has struck something deep and violent inside him.
His father leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, soft, almost tender.
“Shhh, pretty little thing,” he murmurs calmly, the words more terrifying for how gentle they sound. “The men need to have a talk now.”
A violent shiver tears through me. Dread settles heavy and poisonous in my stomach, spreading fast. My body trembles uncontrollably, caught between his grip and the cold certainty of the gun at my head.
But I don’t look at him.
I keep my eyes locked on Khai.
I try to speak to him without a sound, to beg him not to move, not to break, hoping he can read the terror written into every shallow breath I manage to steal.
“Let. Her. Go.” Khai’s voice is low, guttural, scraped raw through clenched teeth. “Father.”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t shift. He stands utterly still, like a man holding himself together by force alone. His eyes never leave mine.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
A soft chuckle hums behind me.
“No, she doesn’t,” his father agrees mildly. “But she was very useful in getting you here.” The barrel presses harder into my temple, unforgiving. I flinch despite myself. “And she’s, my insurance. My guarantee that you’ll fall back in line, boy.”
Khai’s gaze sharpens to a lethal point.
I see his fingers curl slowly into fists at his sides, blood already slicking his knuckles, dripping from where he’s torn himself open in restraint.
