When I step into my room, there’s none of the same relief I expect to feel. All the way here, I was imagining what it would be like to finally be home, to have my own belongings surrounding me, and to be with my family under the same roof. But all the relief I expected is absent.
The room is missing something, but it takes me long moments to figure out what it is.
Elijah.
Although it’s identical to the one at home, it’s missing his scent, his presence. The realization makes me stop in my tracks, stopping in the middle of the room as reality washes over me.
I’ve come to think of Elijah’s house as my home, and I can’t quite put my finger on when that happened. The estate I grew up in, and even my apartment in the city, they don’t feel like mine anymore.
It could be Stockholm syndrome. Maybe my mind has accepted there’s nothing I can do to escape the man who stole me away, but something tells me that’s not the case. There’s a niggling feeling deep in my gut that tells me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Maybe it’s some of Elijah’s confidence rubbing off on me. When he tells me about how sure he was from the first moment he laid eyes on me, the conviction and all the things he did to make it a reality, I can’t help but believe him.
“Are you okay?” Wynter’s voice breaks through my thoughts, tearing me back to the moment.
“Of course,” I tell her, continuing into the room and perching on the edge of the bed. Even the mattress doesn’t feel quite right, but then again, I’ve spent the last few nights with Elijah, and I don’t think any bed he’s not in will ever feel right again.
She watches me carefully, uncertainty crossing her features as she rests her hand absentmindedly on her barely there baby bump. Of course she looks perfect while pregnant, because Wynter takes everything in her stride and looks like a supermodel doing it. I’m sure even when she’s in labor, she’ll be ready to step out onto the runway.
“This wedding is very rushed,” she finally says, crossing the room to where I’m sitting.
I nod slowly and shrug. “It is, but when you know, you know.”
She lets out a slow breath and I can almost hear the words on her tongue before she speaks them. “You’ve always been the free spirit in the family, and I love that about you. I love how brave you are, and how willing you are to go against the grain of what’s expected of you. I just can’t help but wonder if perhaps this may be a case of you going against Storm.” She chooses her words carefully, making sure to not say what she’s thinking. They think this is just another case of me rebelling.
“This is what I want, Wynter.” It’s a lie I’ve practiced over and over again, because I knew this conversation was coming. Except, as the words roll off my tongue, I find it’s not a lie. Not anymore. I do want to be with Elijah. The realization slams into me and knocks the air from my lungs just the way the first one did. Holy shit.
She watches me for long moments, looking for mistruth in my words, but when she doesn’t find any, she lets out a soft sigh. “I just want you to be happy, and if he gives you happiness, he’s okay in my books.”
I smile and reach for her, wrapping my arms around her. “You’re going to be the best mom, Wyn.”
She lets out a laugh, the feeling vibrating through our embrace. “I hope so. And hey, maybe you’ll give him or her a cousin soon too!”
I hold on to her tighter for a few moments and squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the tears. This is the thing that keeps dragging me back. I’m not ready to be a mother, and I’m certainly not ready to bring a child into the world with Elijah. I may want to be with him, but the idea of having a baby with such a brutal man, scares the life out of me.
Wynter doesn’t seem to notice the dull panic that erupts in my belly at the thought, and for that I’m grateful.
“I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” I say, quickly standing from the bed and crossing the room before she can say anything.
When I slip into the bathroom and close the door behind me, I immediately drop to my knees in front of the cupboard. My heart beats heavily in my chest as I rummage behind the bottles and makeup products until I find what I’m looking for and relief washes over me.
A few months ago, Doc gave me three months’ worth of a contraceptive pill to try to regulate my periods, and I never got around to starting them between everything else that was going on. I’ve never been more grateful for his foresight and my forgetfulness as I am right now.
I shove the small packets into my bag with a fleeting hope that Elijah doesn’t go through whatever I want to take back with us. I don’t think he will, I think we’re past the point of him thinking I might kill him, and me thinking I might want to. I’ve already killed one too many people.
I flush the toilet I didn’t use and wash my hands idly. Wynter is suspicious enough without me doing anything else to tip her off. And hell, she should be suspicious. Her sister who has never expressed a desire to get married, who never played with bridal dolls as a child, is getting married in a few days, with not enough time to plan, to a man who has always been a mortal enemy of our family. I’d be fucking suspicious too.
When I walk back into the room, my sister is pacing back and forth across the room, worry etched into her brow. Wynter isn’t much of a stressor, normally the calm and collected one as the rest of us go into varying levels of panic, but she looks about ready to tear her own hair out.
“Everything okay, Wyn?” I ask.
She stops in her tracks, turning to look at me as she worries her lip between her teeth. Her brows are pulled together. Whatever is troubling her is causing her real stress. “I need to tell you something.”
“Anything. You know that.” I take a few steps closer to her, but when she steps back my stomach plummets. There’s something wrong.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out, rubbing her stomach a few times as if it will give her some kind of strength. “Storm and Everett think Elijah is double-crossing us. They think he’s the one who took the shipment the other day and that orchestrated the attempt on your life.”
Blood roars through my ears and I barely remember to breathe. The memory of having a gun held on me is still too raw, too fresh, for me to think about, and the reminder has a cold sweat breaking out on my brow.
“They invited you both here under the ruse of planning the wedding, but I think they have other plans.”
My eyes snap up to meet my sister’s which are so similar to my own. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think they might hurt Elijah.”
I’m running for the door before his name finishes rolling off her tongue. I need to stop this. They can’t hurt him, not when I’m finally starting to feel things for him, not when I’m finally starting to understand the connection he’s felt for a decade.
I’m down the stairs and sprinting toward Storm’s office before I can even think to ask where they are, and when I find the room empty, I know exactly where they’ll be.
The basement.
I continue down the hallway, not slowing down despite my lungs screaming at me to do so. I’ve never been much of a runner, and my body isn’t accustomed to this much physical exertion, especially after being locked in the same house for two weeks.
Without thought, I burst through the basement door, taking the steps two at a time. Muffled voices and groans of pain fill my ears, but I don’t stop.
I don’t stop when I see Elijah tied to a chair with blood running down his face.
I don’t stop when Rayne throws another punch, landing it in the middle of his torso.
And I certainly don’t stop when Everett catches a glimpse of me marching toward them.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, inserting myself between the three men and the man I’m coming to care for.
“Snow, this has nothing to do with you,” Storm says slowly. Anger vibrates off him, but he won’t hurt me. None of the men standing before me would lay a finger on me, and that’s the only advantage I have right now.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with me?” I shout, backing up until Elijah’s knees brush against the back of my own. “You have my fiancé tied to a fucking chair, beating him? Which part of this has nothing to do with me?”
“This is business,” Rayne tells me.
“Right.” I nod as if that’s the answer to all my questions. “Well, we’re leaving. And you can all consider yourselves uninvited from our wedding. I don’t want any of you there. You clearly can’t respect my choice of husband, and I won’t have you there ruining my day.” The words come out cold and callous.
“Snow—” Storm starts.
“No.” I put my hand up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“We had a shipment go missing the night you were attacked, and all signs point to Elijah,” Everett tells me.
I let out a breath, barely holding on to my temper. “The night I was attacked, Elijah didn’t leave my side for a moment. If he was going to pull off a job like that, don’t you think he’d have to make a call or two at the very least?” I raise a brow in question. I know men are capable of anything, especially men like Elijah, but something tells me he didn’t do this. I move behind Elijah and start working at the rope binding his wrists together. Beneath the scratchy material there are angry red marks from where he fought them, and my anger intensifies.
I’ve never been a particularly angry person, feisty yes, but not angry. Except for right now. Right now, the rage boiling in my blood blinds me, and I’m barely containing my need to pick up the baseball bat I’m certain they had planned to use on the man I’m about to marry and beat all three of them within an inch of their lives.
“Snowflake,” Elijah murmurs groggily.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
“You’re not taking him anywhere,” Storm snaps.
I drop the rope to the ground and stand, glaring at my brother. “Yes, I am. I’m taking my fiancé home.”
Rayne steps forward and I move my body between him and Elijah protectively, a snarl on my lips. I’m not the same woman I was a few weeks ago, and if they think I’m going to back down, they have another thing coming.
