Page 59 of Knot Your Romeo

“Are you Emmie? Or are you doing what they expect? Don’t you see that’s how they operate, sweetheart? They make you think every feeling, every choice, every decision is your own. But it’s not. It’s all carefully orchestrated to make you dependent on them, to make leaving seem impossible.”

“But what if it’s real?” I ask quietly. “What if some of it, at least, is genuine?”

Mom kneels beside my chair, taking my hands in hers. “Then it will survive separation. If any of these men truly care about you, they’ll understand why we need to leave. They’ll respectyour need for space to figure out your own feelings without their influence.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you’ll have your answer about their true intentions.”

I stare down at our joined hands, seeing the small scars she got from Blake while protecting me however she could. She’s sacrificed everything for us, and now she’s asking me to trust her one more time.

“Where would we go?” I ask.

“I have contacts,” she says. “People who can help us disappear again if we need to. We’ll figure it out.”

“What about your job? Your position here?”

“There are other jobs.” Mom’s voice is steady, certain. “I failed your sisters and have no other daughters to save.”

The simple statement breaks something inside me. Here I am, agonizing over men who may or may not actually care about me, while the one person who has never wavered in her love for me is willing to sacrifice everything to keep me safe.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, we’ll go.”

Her shoulders relax as relief floods Mom’s features. “Thank you. I know this is hard, but I promise we’ll figure out a new plan. A better one.”

I nod as I walk away, but when I reach the bottom of the stairs, Mom’s voice stops me cold.

“Emmie.” Her tone has shifted, becoming the one she used when I was small and had done something dangerous. “I need you to promise me something.”

I turn slowly, dreading what’s coming. “No more contact with any of the Silver men. Not Beck, not Elias, not even casual conversation. And absolutely no more private meetings with your professor.”

Her eyes are steel. “I mean it, Emmie. Not a word, not a glance, nothing that could be misinterpreted.”

“Mom, you can’t make—“

“I can and I am.” She crosses her arms, every inch the protective parent. “You said you’d trust me. This is part of that trust. Complete separation until we leave.”

“But school—Jude is my professor. I can’t just—“

“You’ll sit in the back, keep your head down, and speak only when directly questioned about coursework. No lingering after class, no office hours, no casual conversations.” Her voice brooks no argument. “Promise me.”

The cage she’s building around me feels suffocating. “What if they approach me? What if—“

“Then you’ll be polite but distant. You’ll make it clear that your circumstances have changed.” Mom’s expression softens slightly. “I know this feels harsh, sweetheart. But it’s only for a few days. Just until we can leave safely.”

A few days that feel like a lifetime stretching ahead of me. “Fine,” I bite out. The idea of cutting all contact feels wrong. Worse than wrong. It feels like I’m betraying something fundamental about myself.

“Good.” Mom’s relief is visible. “Now go get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll start making arrangements.”

22

Eli

The flames dance higheras I feed another photo into the fire, watching Kate’s smile curl and blacken at the edges before disappearing entirely.

Three years of memories reduced to ash and smoke, and for the first time since she left, I feel something other than the hollow ache that’s lived in my chest.

I feel free.

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