Rafe’s eyes flashed; his mouth turned down. He was about to insult me. I saw it in his eyes. Maybe even about to try to hurt me again. The way his naked body all tensed up… I shook my head. Maybe he should die after all—
“They’re here,” Theo called from the top of the stairs, and I smiled at Rafe, a wicked thing built only to show him how unafraid I was. “You ready?”
He scowled at me but made no movement, only sat rotting in his chair while his fate was decided for him. By me. By his wife.
“Bring them down!” I yelled back up, stepping away from the chair, crossing my arms over my chest and watching as Theo brought down Rafael’s buyers.
Two men, both with masks covering the majority of their faces, followed my brother down. One of them caught my eye, our gazes locking for a second, a flash of recognition. Something. I furrowed my brow, but the moment passed. They didn’t hesitate to move through the space, both giving off confidence in spades.
With efficiency, and quiet muttering between each other, the two men took a second to observe Rafe before lifting him up with an arm under each shoulder. Rafael sagged between them, his feet dragging on the concrete floor as they shifted into a better position. They let his purple toes thump with each step as they pulled him up the stairs, leaving Theo and me alone in the dank peace.
We looked at each other, a new lightness now that the monster wasn’t under our control. I raised my eyebrows; my mouth twitched.
“Christian is finishing up with them,” Theo told me. “We’re done. He’s gone.”
“He’s gone,” I repeated, nodding, letting that sense of freedom wash over me. It was tricky, after so long trapped, after so much had gone wrong since the moment I began walking down that aisle. But I knew I could get there with time.
Theo drifted over, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me to him. I nuzzled into his chest, breathing him in.
“Are you sure you don’t want to put a bullet between his eyes and know with certainty he’s dead?” he asked. I’d contemplated it, even in those moments when I finally spoke to him, shared my piece while knowing the buyers were imminent. Was this the right choice? Would I ever feel truly settled understanding he was out there somewhere?
But I shook my head, muttering against Theo’s chest, “I like the idea of him out there suffering. Never being able to get close, thinking about me whenever he gets abused. That’s so much sweeter.”
Theo kissed the top of my hair. “Let’s go home.”
--
So we didn’t quite go home. Or rather, we didn’t stay there. After seeing Rafael off, we said our goodbyes to Christian and headed to the British consulate in New York City. I had no passport, and we had no way of finding it, so we had to spend three days in the city waiting for another one.
Luckily, news of our family’s demise had spread — the fire, the grief we were experiencing — so we had sympathy, a good excuse for it being gone.
Our stay in NYC was brief, and our time in London even briefer. Watching the city come into focus as we flew into Heathrow was a heavy experience. Home. An ocean away from the pain.
I spent the entire period we were in London in the old family home, wandering around the place looking for any mementos, anything to remind me of the good times. The very few we had. I came away with nothing.
Theo did all the company and bank dealings, signing it all away, handing what he could to whoever wanted it. I didn’t know; didn’t care. But it felt like good closure.
Two days in London was all it took. Two days in the city for Theo to dismantle thirty years of our father’s nefarious work. And two days for us to realize we didn’t want to stay.
“Well,” Theo said as we pulled up to the cottage we’d rented as we drove away from the London mansion, seeking out the furthest, most isolated location we could that was still available. “This looks about as secluded as a place can be.”
Twelve hours of driving, stopping at a chain hotel on the side of the motorway for a night, eating fast food I’d never eaten before and experiencing the joy of motorway service stations when we needed a break, and we’d arrived. Home for the next month — a pokey, but charming cottage in the middle of the Scottish Highlands.
Red deer and the surrounding mountains the only company we had.
“Perfect, then,” I said, grinning at him and jumping out of the car, needing to stretch my limbs in the crisp air. It was so fresh up here, not a neighbor or other structure in sight in any direction. We were truly alone. I took a deep breath and watched the reddish landscape, a smile creeping onto my face.
Maybe one day, when we were all healed up and ready to live normal again, we’d finally stop, find somewhere permanent and surrounded by life, but for now, this was exactly right. Theo was all I needed to heal.
Kicking off our shoes as we walked into the chilly cottage, Theo dropped our bags at the door before pushing on ahead. It was great to see him not swinging a gun around, checking for assailants, but he still did a quick sweep with his eyes, taking the space in. It was amazing to witness his shoulders relaxed, his hair a little longer, and his steps less measured. The frowny divot between his eyebrows was fading, too.
We were both coming back to life.
“Looks nice,” he said, his gaze roaming over the kitchen.
I nodded. It did look nice. Small. Not what we were used to, not what we could now afford, but perfect for what life was bringing us. To live in something lavish wouldn’t sit right. I wanted basic — the simplicity of living. Cooking easy food, listening to music, animal watching, bathing together by candlelight and spending our days in peace.
“Yeah,” I responded, my eyes still lingering on my brother. He filled up the space nicely, looking at ease as he opened a kitchen cupboard or two, as he bent down to peer into the tiny under-counter fridge. We had a bagful of groceries from the nearest shop twenty miles away to pack into the cupboards.
