Chapter 4
Damian didn’t say another word.
He just turned.
Walked out of the kitchen.
I heard his boots on the marble floor.
Heard the front door slam.
Heard engines roar to life.
And then… silence.
Milo looked up from his pancakes.
“Where’d Daddy go?”
I ran to the window.
Three black SUVs were peeling out of the driveway.
Gone.
“Work, baby,” I said, my voice shaking.
“He had to go to work.”
I turned back to the room.
To the mess.
To the life I’d accidentally stepped back into.
I had to get out.
Now.
Before Marcus found out we were here.
Before Damian did something stupid and got himself killed.
Before Milo got hurt.
“Finish eating,” I said, grabbing my bag from the hall.
“We’re leaving.”
“Leaving where?” Milo asked, mouth full.
“Somewhere safe.”
I ran upstairs.
Threw whatever I could find into a bag.
Milo’s clothes.
Toys.
The ring.
The bear.
I ran back down.
Milo was still at the table.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand.
“Now.”
“But my pancakes—”
“Later!” I pulled him toward the door.
We almost made it.
The front door was ten feet away.
Then it opened.
Damian walked in.
Behind him, two men carried a third.
The third man was Marcus.
Damian’s brother.
He was bleeding.
Badly.
His face was swollen.
One eye was already closing.
His hands were tied behind his back.
They dropped him at Damian’s feet.
Marcus looked up.
Saw me.
Saw Milo.
And he smiled.
A bloody, broken smile.
“There she is,” he coughed.
“The little whore who ran away with my nephew.”
Damian kicked him in the stomach.
Hard.
Marcus curled into a ball.
Gasping.
“You don’t get to speak about her,” Damian said.
“Or him.
Ever again.”
He looked at me.
His eyes were black with rage.
“Take Milo upstairs.
Now.”
I couldn’t move.
I was frozen.
Five years of nightmares.
Five years of waking up screaming.
And the man from my dreams was on my living room floor.
Bleeding.
But still smiling.
Still dangerous.
“Elena,” Damian said, his voice sharp.
“Take. Him. Upstairs.”
I picked Milo up.
He buried his face in my neck.
“Mommy, why is that man bleeding?”
“Don’t look, baby,” I whispered.
“Just close your eyes.”
I carried him up.
Didn’t look back.
Locked ourselves in the bedroom.
Sat on the bed with Milo in my arms.
Rocked him.
Sang to him.
Tried to block out the sounds from downstairs.
The shouting.
The sounds of fists hitting flesh.
Marcus screaming.
Damian yelling.
Then… silence.
A soft knock on the door.
“Elena?”
It was Damian.
I didn’t answer.
“Elena, please.
He’s gone.
It’s over.”
I stood up.
Put Milo behind me.
Opened the door just a crack.
Damian stood there.
His shirt was torn.
His knuckles were split and bleeding.
There was blood on his face.
Not his.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
Damian shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Damian—”
“He’s my brother,” he said, stepping into the room.
“I should kill him.
God knows I want to.
He put a gun to your stomach.
Told you he’d cut our baby out of you if you didn’t run.
He stole five years from me.
From us.”
His voice broke.
“But he’s still my brother.
And my father would roll in his grave if I killed blood.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I got it out of him,” he said.
“Every word.
Every threat.
Every time he came to you when I wasn’t home.
Every time he told you I’d never protect you.
That I’d choose the family over you and the baby.”
He closed the distance between us.
“I would have chosen you,” he said quietly.
“I would have burned the whole world down before I let anyone hurt you.
Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he said he’d kill you too!” I screamed.
The words burst out of me.
Five years of fear.
Five years of silence.
All of it came pouring out.
“He said if I told you, he’d shoot you in your sleep.
And then he’d kill me.
And then he’d cut the baby out and raise it himself to be just like him!
What was I supposed to do, Damian?
Huh?
What choice did I have?”
I was crying now.
Sobbing.
He pulled me into his arms.
I fought him.
Hit his chest.
Tried to push him away.
He just held on tighter.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair.
“I’m so sorry.
I should have been there.
I should have seen it.
I should have protected you.”
I stopped fighting.
Collapsed against him.
He held me while I cried.
While five years of pain finally came out.
Milo tugged on Damian’s pants.
“Daddy?
Why is Mommy crying?”
Damian knelt down.
Wiped my tears with his thumb.
Then looked at Milo.
“Because Mommy’s been very brave for a very long time,” he said.
“And now she doesn’t have to be anymore.”
He looked back at me.
“Marcus is gone,” he said.
“For good.
I’ve sent him to the farm upstate.
He’ll never come near the city again.
Never come near you.
Or Milo.
I swear it.”
“Your farm?” I said, wiping my eyes.
“The one with no phone?
No roads?
No way out?”
“The same,” he said.
“He’ll live.
But he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
It wasn’t death.
But it was close enough.
Marcus had always loved the city.
Loved the power.
Loved the attention.
Locking him in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere was worse than death for him.
It was justice.
Stone family style.
“Okay,” I said.
Damian stood up.
Brushed the hair off my face.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“We’ll stay.
For now.”
He smiled.
A real smile.
The first one I’d seen since I came back.
“For now,” he agreed.
“I’ll take it.”
He held out his hand.
May you like
This time, I didn’t hesitate.
I took it.
