Bound to my Enemy

Anything happens, you call," he says quietly.

"I will," I repeat.

Caleb pulls me into a hug after that.

"Don’t try to handle everything alone," he adds.

I nod against him.

Then Lucas he steps forward and pulls me into a hug that’s a little tighter than the others.

"Don’t let anyone mess with your head," he mutters.

I close my eyes for a second.

"I won’t." I whisper as we pull apart slowly and just like that....It’s done.

Lucas turns, already slipping into action mode.

"I’m sending security with you," he says.

I open my mouth to argue....Then close it because this isn’t something I can fight him on.

"I don’t want a repeat of last time," he adds.

I nod.

"Okay."

Within minutes, everything is set....protection probably more than I need but I don’t complain.

I glance behind me one last time and get into the car...,heading straight back to the one place I’m not sure I’m ready for... but I know I can’t avoid anymore.

The entire ride there, my stomach doesn’t settle once.

Every turn the car takes feels like it’s bringing me closer to something I’m not ready for. My fingers stay laced together in my lap, squeezing and unsqueezing without me even realizing it and by the time the gates come into view, my chest is already too tight.

Home.

I swallow I don’t even know if I can call it that right now.

The car comes to a stop and one of Lucas’ men steps out first, scanning the surroundings like I might get snatched again.

I don’t wait for anyone to open my door, I just push it open myself and step out.

Everything feeling strange and familiar at the same ti time.

I wrap my arms around myself briefly before dropping them again.

"Ma’am," one of the guards says quietly behind me.

"I’m fine," I mutter, even though I’m not.

I walk toward the entrance slowly, each step heavier than the last.

And the entire time, one thought keeps looping in my head...

Please don’t be home.

I’m not ready....I’m not ready to see him, not after yesterday, nor after what he said, not after what I didn’t say.

I reach the door and pause for a split second, then I push it open.

The house is quiet when I come in and my shoulders loosen just a little.

Maybe he’s not here, maaybe I have time to just... breathe. To settle and to exist in the space without everything hitting me at once.

I step inside fully, closing the door behind me softly.

And then..... i walk straight into him, I didn’t even see him coming.

One second I’m stepping forward, the next I collide into something solid and warm and...i gasp, stumbling back a little.

"Oh...."

My eyes snap up.

Zane....he is right in front of me.

So close I can see the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. The slight tightness in his posture like his body still hasn’t fully recovered.

My heart jumps straight into my throat.

"Sorry," I blurt out immediately, instinct kicking in. "I didn’t....I wasn’t looking...."

God. Why am I rambling?

I straighten quickly, smoothing my hands over my clothes like that’s going to fix anything.

"Hi," I add, quieter this time. "Good... good afternoon."

It feels awkward and too formal, like we’re strangers and for some reason that alone makes something twist painfully in my chest.

He doesn’t say anything, not even a sound.

He just looks at me, briefly then he walks past me, like I’m not even there, like I didn’t just spea to him, like Im not standing right in front of him.

My breath catches as I turn slightly, watching him as he moves toward the door.

"Zane....," I start.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down,doesn’t even acknowledge that I spoke.

The door opens, then closes behind him.

And just like that.....He’s gone and silence fills the space again But this time it’s different.

I stand there, still facing the direction he walked out from, my brain trying to catch up with what just happened.

Did....Did he just ignore me?Completely ignore me?

I blink once..My brows pulling together slightly as I turn fully toward the door like he might walk back in and explain himself.

He doesn’t.

"Did... did this man just ignore me?" I mutter under my breath.

There’s disbelief in my voice and something else....soomething hurtful beecause yesterday....Yesterday he stood in front of me, pouring his heart out, asking why I didn’t care, why I didn’t come see him.

And now? Now I’m standing right here and he walks past me like I don’t exist.

My chest tightens again, but this time it’s different.....not confusion or hurt in the same way.

Something more... irritating and frustrating.

I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly.

"Wow," I mutter, crossing my arms loosely. "Okay."

I don’t even know what I expected but it wasn’t that and the worst part? That tiny, stupid part of me that was nervous about seeing him...,,About what he’d say..,,,About how he’d look at me...,That part feels... ridiculous now and im just left standing here.

Alone. Again and somehow....That stings more than if he had shouted.

I stand there for a few more seconds. I let out a breath through my nose and shake my head, almost annoyed at myself for even standing there this long.

"Whatever," I mutter under my breath.

I’m not doing this....not right now. I’ve been through too much to start standing around overthinking his attitude. So I turn away from the door and head deeper into the house.

My feet carry me down the familiar hallway almost on instinct. Past corners I know too well and past walls that suddenly feel a little too quiet.

Everything looks the same but it doesn’t feel the same And I hate that.

I don’t even realize how much I’ve missed something normal....something safe....until I step into the kitchen.

"Margaret?"

My voice comes out softer than I expect, she turns almost immediately and the moment her eyes land on me....

"Elaine?"

Her voice breaks on my name and before I can even say anything else, she’s already walking...no, rushing....towards me.

Then she’s holding me tight, so tight it almost knocks the breath out of me.

"Oh my God," she breathes, her hands coming up to cup my face like she needs to make sure I’m real. "Oh my God, look at you..."

And just like that...Something in me softens completely. I didn’t even realize how much I needed this.

Her hands move over my arms, my shoulders, like she’s checking for damage, her eyes scanning every inch of me. Her face crumpling slightly.

"You’ve lost weight..." she murmurs, voice thick. "And these..," her fingers hover over the faint bruises along my arm, now fading but still there, "...,what did they do to you?"

Her voice cracks and that’s when I see it....th tears, actual tears sitting in her eyes.

"Hey... hey," I say quickly, trying to steady her even though my own chest tightens. "I’m okay. I’m fine, Margaret. I’m here."

But she shakes her head like she’s not hearing me.

"I prayed every day," she whispers. "Every single day... I asked God to bring you back to this house in one piece..."

That hits me harder than I expect because she means it.

This isn’t obligation, this isn’t just her job.

She pulls me into another hug, softer this time but just as firm, her hand rubbing my back slowly like she used to when I was upset.

"My child..." she murmurs.

And that’s it.....that word, it settles somewhere deep in my chest and I close my eyes for a brief second, letting myself lean into it just for a moment.

Then she pulls back suddenly, wiping at her face quickly like she doesn’t want me to see her crying.

"No, no, look at me crying when you’re the one that’s been through hell," she mutters, trying to compose herself.

She straightens slightly, slipping back into that familiar, comforting presence.

"You should sit," she says immediately, already guiding me gently toward one of the chairs. "Sit down, don’t just stand there."

"I’m okay, I can...."

"No," she cuts in softly but firmly. "Sit."

And I do because arguing with her feels pointless, beecause right now, I don’t even have the energy to pretend I’m fine.

The moment I sit, she’s already moving around the kitchen. Openjng cupboards, pulling things out.

"Have you eaten?" she asks over her shoulder.

I hesitate.

"...not really."

She clicks her tongue under her breath.

"I knew it," she mutters. "Just look at you."

There’s no judgment in her voice, just concern. Real, heavy concern.

"I’m going to make something proper," she says, already halfway into it. "Not all this nonsense you probably tried to survive on."