Page 86 of Pretty Lethal
Beyond wanting her here with me, I need to know she’s safe, and unless I can have eyes on her at all times, then I’m not going to believe that she is. Friday night scared the living bejesus out of me. The sick, nauseous pit in my stomach that opened up as I watched helplessly as she was taunted and chased… I don’t think it will ever entirely go away.
It wasn’t dissimilar to the feeling I had when I woke up alone in that hospital bed and justknewsomething was wrong. Except this time, she was alone, and it was all my fault that she was even out there in the first place. It seems I keep fucking up at every turn—even when I’m trying my best to do right by her.
Heat slinks over my skin as she steps into my side. “You can do this. Hopefully, this way, we will get the answers we need.”
I stare down at her, my eyes roaming over the fan of thick eyelashes that frame her dazzling green eyes, the soft pink of her lips, and the rosy tint to her cheeks from the cold.
“I don’t know why you didn’t run when you had the chance,” I say in a voice so soft I doubt the others can hear. “All I’ve done is make your life hell.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t flinch or step away. If anything, a fierce determination settles over her face. “No, Wilder. Hell was trying to carve out some semblance of an existence without you. This shitshow”—she waves at the obscene white house behind her—“is nothing in comparison to that pain. This right here is exactly where I want to be, because it’s where you are.”
“But all I do is cause you more pain.”
Pressing into me so I can feel her curves, she lifts a hand to cup my cheek. Her warmth seeps into my skin, warming it from the inside out. “I won’t deny you hurt me in the past, but all of that is behind us now, and this… I don’t blame you for any of this. All fault lies with this sadistic group of entitled assholes.” Her lips quirk up in a grin, and steely resolve burns in her eyes, luring me in. “So let's go show them what happens when they try to fuck with our family.”
Before she can pull away, I wrap an arm around her waist and slide my hand into her hair, tilting her head to bring her lips to mine as I capture them in a tantalizing kiss. As always, my Angel knows how to sate the dark voices in my head. The ones that threaten to ruin everything. She has proven time and again that she won’t let them. That she isn’t afraid. That when they rear their ugly heads and try to do their worst, she will fight them tooth and nail.
Because she loves me.
Because we’re a family.
And no matter what, nothing and no one will get in the way of that.
Especially now that we’re having a baby—or if not already, we will be soon.
“Seriously?” Hawk grumbles. “Do you mind? Some of us are freezing our asses off.”
Pulling apart, I roll my eyes at Emilia and she smirks.
“Alright, asshole. Hold onto your panties. We’re going.”
Hawk grumbles something too low for me to hear as I stride up the steps to my grandfather’s house, ready to get this over with and sail off into the sunset with my Angel at my side… and those two idiots somewhere below deck.
Chapter27
EMILIA
My foot taps anxiously against the pristine tile floor of the solarium as we wait for Wilder’s grandfather. Frederick, the house manager—which I’m fairly certain is just a fancy name for a butler—had seemed reluctant to let us in, but Wilder put on an excellent show of acting like an entitled brat and all but demanded to see his grandfather. Despite his severe frown, Frederick couldn’t deny his request and reluctantly granted us entry, showing us to the solarium before going to fetch the old man himself.
Unable to sit still, I get up and begin pacing the spacious area. Even though I was here for the annual Christmas party, I didn’t have the opportunity to really take in the house, and as we were led through it, I couldn’t help but notice how cold and vacant it was. Almost as though the house was a show house and not actually lived in. However, out here, the bright winter sun shines through the glass ceiling, providing much-needed warmth to the room.
I walk past expensive-looking ornaments, giving them a wide berth as I look out over the manicured gardens. Shaped rose bushes and perfectly topped hedges. It’s all very beautiful, but it’s so sterile. Again, everything feels as though it’s for show.
Pulling my attention from the landscaped gardens, I catch sight of a photo frame tucked away behind some weird-looking glass vase. I haven’t spotted any photos on our short journey through the house, so curiosity gets the better of me as I reach out a hand toward it.
Bringing the picture to my face, I scan the unfamiliar faces of Wilder’s family. It appears to be a large group photo. Front and center is who I presume to be Wilder’s grandfather—short gray hair with an astute, sharp gaze. Pinched expression. However, the man standing to his right grabs my attention. He’s younger in this photo, possibly my age, though his brown hair and sharp features are familiar somehow.
“Wilder,” I call out. When he approaches, I point to the man. “Who is this?”
“That’s Robbie.”
My eyebrows hit my forehead. “It is?”
“Yeah, why?”
By now, Hawk and Kai have gathered around to listen.
“I saw him the night of the party. He was in the office with one of the other English professors—Carrie. They were, you know…” I lower my voice to a whisper, making their shoulders bounce with silent laughter. “Having sex.”
