Emilia

(Present Day)

Oh god! What have I done?

It’s the first thought that comes to mind when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Lucas and Nero running after us. 

When we disappear around the corner, I try to signal for Creed to stop. Tapping my hand on his abdomen, I yell over the deafening roar of the engine. I need him to turn around and go back, so Lucas and I can explain that we’ve been searching for him and that this is our chance to work together to find a solution. But when Creed tosses my purse onto the side of the road and then squeezes my hand in a painful grip, it becomes clear I’m no longer in control of my destiny.

“Stop it!” He roars loud enough for me to know he means business.

There was a time when I trusted this man implicitly. That was back before that dreaded day three years ago when he tried to convince me our marriage was based on lies and manipulations. I’m still not sure I believe what he said to me that night. But now, as I face the possibility he’s kidnapped me, I’m no longer certain I can trust him not to hurt me. I mean, why else go through the trouble of taking me this way? If he meant me no harm, why didn’t he just go to Ben and ask for his help?

Oh god, the earrings. Why didn’t I wear the earrings? 

I was so angry and hurt after what happened between Lucas and me this morning that in an act of defiance, I refused to wear them and tossed them into my purse instead. The purse that’s now discarded on the side of the road, along with my phone, my wallet, and the tracking device that was meant to keep me safe.

How could I’ve been so stupid?

Unlucky for me, I have plenty of time to dwell on my stupidity and current predicament. Whether it’s been hours or minutes, I have no idea how much time has passed when he pulls the motorcycle onto a dirt road. The surrounding landscape tells me we’re not far from home, most likely in one of the more desolate mountain towns. Which one is anyone’s guess, and I’m kicking myself for not having paid closer attention. It was a foolish mistake. One I hope I don’t live to regret.

When we come to a stop outside a small cabin, I scan the area, knowing this might be my only chance at an escape. The hunting cabin looks old and poorly maintained. The surrounding forest has grown to reclaim not only the land around it but also parts of the porch where the floorboards are broken.

Before he’s turned the motorcycle off, I’m already on the move. Jumping from the back of the bike, I tear the helmet off my head and take off on a run. The rocky ground is difficult to navigate and I almost trip. Thankfully, I’m able to catch my footing before I fall.

“Emi stop!” He yells behind me.

He’s so much faster, partly because of the high heels that make it difficult to run. In my attempt to kick them off, he makes his move, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around. Just as I learned in the self-defense classes Ben forced us to take, I swing at his face. My fist connects in a hit that should hurt him, and yet I’m the one who falls in pain.

“Nooo…don’t touch me!” I scream, holding my injured hand to my chest, while I flail and kick to keep him away.

“God damn it, Emilia. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Like a cornered animal I fight and scream until he lifts me from the ground and wraps me up in a tight hold. With my back against his chest and my hands secured across my body, I’m at his mercy. Resigned to my fate, the fight drains from me and I begin to cry. When he shifts his hold into an embrace, memories of our life together come rushing back. 

This right here is the man I married. 

The man who rescued me from the depths of heartbreak and taught me I could love again. 

The man who saved me from myself, and showed me how to live again. 

But then his ugly words from that awful night three years ago replay in my mind, stoking the red-hot rage that now lives inside me. He deceived me. Tricked me into loving him when he knew all along he didn’t want the same life I did. And then he disappeared. Left me and the girls to fend for ourselves.

“Get the hell off me,” I yell, pushing him away as I reign in the tears he doesn’t deserve. When he does as I ask and lets go, I trip and fall to the ground, kicking at him when he reaches out to help me. “I said don’t touch me! I want nothing from you. Not anymore.”

“Emilia, please. I brought you here to explain.”

“Explain what? How you’re a liar. How everything you’ve told me, including the reason you left, was a sleight of hand. Deception at the hands of a well-trained agent whose mission was to fool the naïve woman he tricked into marriage?”

For a moment, he just stares. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he hangs his head in shame. When he finds the courage to meet my eyes, it looks as though he’s going to respond, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a defeated sigh before turning away from me and walking back towards the cabin.

“Come on. We have a lot to discuss.”

Not caring one bit about what he wants, I sit there watching as he takes the creaky steps to the front door, where he shoves a key and turns until the lock clicks open. When he steps inside, he turns to look at me imploringly. Common sense tells me I should get up and walk away, but my need for answers is just as strong as my desire to confront him and make him face the consequences of what he’s done to our family.

Getting up, I straighten out my dress and then walk towards where he stands, making sure not to spare him a glance. Once inside, the musty smell makes me cringe, and I use the back of my hand to cover my nose. Blinking a few times to adjust to the low light in the room, I look around and take in my surroundings.

The place is small and looks to have been abandoned long ago, though I can see areas where someone’s made recent repairs. The potent smell of damp mold and dust is yet another sign this place hasn’t seen the light of day in several years. There’s a small kitchenette to the left of the front door, with a small living room area to the right where an old, worn couch with an ugly floral pattern sits to the side. Across the living room are two additional doors, both closed, and I can only guess one to be a bedroom and the other a bathroom. At least I hope for my sake there is a bathroom, especially with not knowing how long he intends to keep me here.

“So what, am I your prisoner?” I scoff, my disdain for him and the situation clear, though I’m sure he can tell it’s partially an act. The truth is, I’m more hurt than mad. Not only did he abandon us, but for two years he left me to suffer alone, as I wondered if the man I married was even alive.

“No.” He shakes his head as an amused smirk, which I choose to ignore, takes over his face.

“Then I need a phone. I have no desire to be anywhere near you right now.”

“No phone. Not yet. First, we talk.”

“Fine. Then talk. What do you want?”

Again he smirks, only this time it turns into his signature arrogant grin. Anger pulses through me as my traitorous insides warm with desire for the man I loved and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. Feelings that I long buried are suddenly resurrected, sparking a glimmer of hope that maybe none of this is as it seems. 

“You know…” he takes a seat at the small round table in the kitchenette, then signals for me to do the same. “I don’t remember you being this feisty.”

His smart remark snaps me back to reality. If the past three years have proven anything is that hope and my relationship with this man do not go together. “Yeah, well, that was before, when I thought you were a man worthy of my respect.”

He smiles. That he’s finding pleasure in my anger, only stokes the fire of rage I’m barely able to contain. “Well, whatever it is, I like it. Now take a seat.”

“No. I think I’ll stand, thank you very much.”

This time, he chuckles. “Suit yourself. Now, tell me, how are the girls?”

“They’re none of your damn business. You lost your right to know anything the second you abandoned them.”

“Fair enough.” No longer amused, he crosses his arms at his chest. “I heard the FBI paid you a visit.” When he pauses, I nod. “What did they tell you?”

“That you need to turn yourself in. If you don’t, they’ll take it out on me and the girls. Did you know they’re building a case against both of us? That they’ve got surveillance on me? That they’ve been following the girls and me for months? What the hell did you do, Creed?”

When he sighs, I notice the deep exhaustion rooted in his features. It’s the type of bone-weary fatigue that shows in the way we age, accentuating the fine lines on our faces, while darkening and sagging the skin just below the eyes. Though it’s only been three years since this all started, it’s obvious how the stress of being on the run has taken its toll. Seeing him so changed saddens me. There’s a part of me that wants to save him from the hell he’s endured, but the scorned, hurt, abandoned mother in me can’t let go of all the things he’s done. I need answers.

“It’s all a setup. I’ll explain more when everyone gets here.”

“Everyone?” Confused and suddenly cold, I wrap my arms around myself.

“Ben and his team. My guys are leading them here. I just needed a few minutes alone with you first.”

“They’re on their way?” I ask hopefully, stepping forward as the news seems to warm my extremities.

He nods, then clears his throat. A look of uncertainty passes over him, and he averts his gaze.

“What is it? What did you want to talk about?” I ask, my voice gentle for the first time since arriving here.

“I didn’t do what they’re saying,” he says solemnly, his eyes fixed on a random point on the dark wooden table. “They’re setting me up. Their way of damaging my reputation, so when I expose the truth, no one will believe me.”

As the room sinks into silence, he takes a deep breath and then rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands. Removing his ball cap, he sets it down on the table in front of him.

“I just need you to know the truth. I would have been here sooner, but they had me pinned down, and the people I had watching out for you swore they’d left you alone. I came as soon as I heard that changed, that they were planning to use you to get to me.”

“You have someone watching me?”

“No. Not exactly.” Standing, he walks to the back of the kitchenette, where he opens the green door of an ancient-looking refrigerator. As he leans down to peer inside, he asks, “Bottle of water?”

“Sure.”

Not confident in the way my limbs are shaking, I move to the table and take the seat across from where he was sitting. When he returns, he hands me the bottle of water and then joins me at the table.

“The situation is complicated…”

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Author’s Note: 

Remember back when Emilia was a conflict-avoidant pushover? It's good to know that when push comes to shove, our Emilia is willing to fight for herself.

As for Creed, we finally have confirmation he's not quite the bad guy the FBI's made him out to be. 

I'd love to hear what you think about Creed so far. Do you find it odd that he took Emilia the way he did, only to lead Lucas and the team back to the cabin where he's keeping her? At this point, do you feel he can be trusted?