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The gate opens and Moses drives in. The guard holds Layla as she tries to bolt after me.
There’s loyalty in that woman. I like it. But I also meant it about crushing her if she goes against me.
I step into the house, ready to find Aurora and make her talk. It’s long overdue. Surely, she also doesn’t like to stay away from her company and her weird friend.
“Sir?”
Margot’s hesitant voice stops me at the base of the stairs. She’s standing there with a silent Tom.
“Yes?”
Her skin is pale and she swallows a few times but doesn’t say anything.
My inner alarms go off at the same time. “What’s going on, Margot? Did something happen to Aurora?”
I checked in a few hours ago to make sure she’d had her lunch, and Margot didn’t mention anything.
“What’s going on?” I say with a stern voice when neither of them speaks.
It’s Margot who finally does. “After I brought her lunch, Miss Aurora has…been…”
“What?”
“Screaming. Breaking things. The crashes could be heard from downstairs. She’s calmed down a bit now, but it was so similar to…”
Tom shakes his head at her, and she clamps her lips shut.
But I know who she was going to compare her to, even if she didn’t say the words.
So similar to Alicia.
Fuck.
I loosen my tie as I ascend the stairs, then turn the key in the lock. The scene I see in front of me is utter fucking chaos.
The coffee table is turned upside down, clothes are thrown on the ground, some torn, and the lamp is broken in pieces at the side of the bed.
I step inside and close the door, pocketing the key.
Since Aurora’s nowhere to be found, I expect her to be in the bathroom. I’m a few steps in when she darts behind me, towards the door.
I grab her by the wrist, careful not to hurt her injured palms. The bandages are already bloodied, which means she’s reopened her wounds.
Again.
Not that it should be a surprise with the amount of damage she’s caused. This fucking woman has no care whatsoever for her own safety.
She thrashes against me, her face red and her loose black hair flying in all directions.
I grab her by the throat and push her down against the mattress. My body overpowers hers as I hover above her. “Stop.”
She squirms, one of her hands hitting me across the chest, but the other remains inert by her side. Her face is pale — minus her flushed cheeks. Her lips are cracked and have lost their natural rosy colour, and the cut on the side of them is bloodied as well. Her deep blue eyes are frantic, pupils dilated — could be due to lack of sleep or her angry fit or both.
“You’re reopening your fucking wounds, Aurora. What is wrong with you?”
“You.” She’s breathing harshly — so much so that h
er words are muffled with her breaths. “If you don’t let me go, you’ll regret it.”
