no turning back

• thirty four •

elijah

Although it was early afternoon when I pulled up to the house, it looked strangely dark from outside. A lump formed in my throat.

Shouldn't there at least have been one light on? What were they doing in there? My thoughts continued racing, despite my efforts to silence them.

Did he hurt her? Why the hell did I entrust her to him? If he hurt her or kidnapped her, I'd happily dice him up and toss his bloody chunks in a backwoods pond somewhere.

I cut the ignition and slipped out of the car, careful not to make any loud noises. It wasn't like I could really sneak up on them with how loud the gravel driveway would be, but I still wanted to be as stealthy as possible.

Pausing at the front door, my hand stilled on the screen door. Everything is fine. You're being dramatic.

My chest rose with a full breath as I yanked the screen door open and pushed the main door inward. The sound seemed quiet at first but soft chatter attracted my gaze to the living area where the television was playing. The back of two heads could be seen sitting on opposite ends of the couch, each tilted at unnatural angles.

Fuck. Did Ammu get to them?

I froze mid-step, the breath vacating my lungs. My muscles tensed, prepared to fight, as I surveyed the bottom floor of the house. There was no sign of forced entry or that anything was askew. I knew I should be worried at the possibility that my wife could be dead but the thought of the threat still lingering kept me locked in survival mode.

Hand on my hip holster, I toed quietly across the floor. The television played some cartoon I remembered watching as a little kid—one of my few innocent childhood memories. That was before my father started drinking all the time, before he started making me do his dirty work.

My heart pounded in the base of my throat. I crept into the living area and around the sofa until I could see their faces. There didn't appear to be any blood, though it was hard to be sure in the dark. My gaze remained locked on Gladys' silken cheeks while I inched closer to her.

She suddenly jolted upright, gasping loudly as her eyes flew open. The moment they crossed mine, she was bounding off the couch and throwing herself at me.

"You're home!" she exclaimed excitedly, nestling her face into my chest.

All of the fear leaked out of me. My arms embraced her as I kissed the top of her head. Her hair was slightly damp and smelled like my cedar wood shampoo. One of my clean t-shirts swallowed her small body, the front tucked haphazardly into the waistband of my boxers. She managed to make something so familiar and mundane look incredibly sexy.

I felt so relieved that she was alright, that she'd only been asleep. And then the embarrassment set in as I processed all of the ridiculous ideas I'd entertained.

Ammu won't find her. No one can find us here.

"Hi, Angel," I greeted softly. "I could get used to this."

She smiled up at me. Noticing her eyes were still glazed with fatigue, I traced a finger along her cheek.

"How was, uh, work?" she asked, nose crinkling. "Is that what we're calling it?"

I chuckled but stopped when noticing Brant's body become animated behind her. Patting her back, I moved to my side so I could have an unobstructed view of them both.

"It's how I pay for our groceries and this roof over our heads, so, yes," I told her. "I consider it a job." My gaze flicked between them. "You two looked cozy. Busy morning?"