EMMA
It’s not forgiveness or even peace. But it’s a ceasefire, and right now that’s enough.
When Dad finally stands from the table and gathers his remaining men and prepares to walk out of Leo’s estate, he turns to me.
For a second we just look at each other. Father and daughter. Two people who love each other and have just spent hours negotiating around the fact that I’m choosing to stay with the man who kidnapped me.
Then he opens his arms.
I go to him without hesitation and he wraps me in a hug so tight I can barely breathe. His face buries in my hair, and I can feel him shaking slightly.
“I love you, Emma girl,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair. “Even if I don’t understand this. Even if I hate it. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.” The words come out choked because I’m crying now, tears soaking into his shirt. “I love you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for?—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t apologize. You made your choice. I just have to…learn to live with it.”
He pulls back enough to look at me, his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are red. I’ve never seen my father cry before. Notever, and it shakes me to my core.
“I’m still your daughter,” I say desperately. “That doesn’t change. I’m still me. I’m still?—”
“You’re a Santoro now.” There’s bitterness in his voice, sharp and cutting, along with resignation.
My stomach does this weird flip-flop thing at that. I’m not a Santoro. Leo and I have never even talked about marriage, mostly because it’s never come up.
“I’ll always be a Brennan too,” I insist. “Just like the baby will be. Half Brennan. Half Santoro. All ours.”
My father’s eyes drop to my stomach and something in his face cracks just enough for me to see the grief underneath the anger.
“Take care of yourself,” he says quietly. “And the baby. And if he”—he looks over my shoulder at where Leo is standing, watching us—“if he ever hurts you. If you ever need me. You call. Understand?”
I nod, even though I know that’ll never happen. “I understand.”
My father’s blue eyes bore into mine. “I mean it, Emma. Day or night. If you need me, I’m there. War or no war. Deal or no deal.”
My lips ghost into a small smile. “I know, Dad. I know.”
He hugs me again, quick and hard, then lets go like it physically pains him. He turns without another word and walks out, his men following. The door closes with a heavy thud that echoes through the destroyed hall.
He’s gone.
I stand there staring at the door, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to hold it together and not fall apart completely.
Leo’s arms come around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. His chin rests on top of my head. “You okay?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be.”
His arms tighten and I lean back into him, letting him take my weight. I let myself have this moment of weakness because I’m so tired and emotionally wrung out. What a fuckingday.
But there’s no time to break down because there’s work to do.
The bodies need to be moved. The blood needs to be cleaned up. The house needs to be, well, not fixed exactly. But at least made livable again.
I pull away from Leo and wipe my face. “Okay. Where do we start?”
Leo looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re not doing anything,” he says firmly. “You’re going upstairs to rest.”
I roll my eyes. “Like hell I am.”