“That’s right!” Emma yells triumphantly. “My father murdered him.Not me!” She doesn’t retreat an inch. “I had nothing to do with what happened! But you’re punishing me anyway because you’re too broken and too angry to see the difference between me and my father!”
“You’re a Brennan,” I say, and now I’m the one jabbing my finger toward her. “You’re part of that family. You benefit from everything your father has done, every deal he’s made, and every life he’s taken. You don’t get to act like you’re innocent just because you weren’t there when he pulled the trigger.”
“And you’re a Santoro!” Emma fires back, her voice rising to match mine. “You think your hands are clean? You thinkyou’venever profited from violence? You’re in the same fuckingbusiness, Leo! The only difference is you’re self-righteous about it!”
“The difference is I have a code,” I snap. “I have rules. I don’t murder people in cold blood over territorial disputes.”
Emma shakes her head. “No, you just kidnap innocent women and hold them prisoner!” Her laugh is harsh and bitter. “ Because that’s so much better!Somuch more honorable! At least my father’s violence is quick—you’re drawing yours out over weeks!”
“I haven’t hurt you,” I say, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“Haven’t you?” Emma’s voice cracks and she looks suddenly vulnerable, making my chest ache. “You’ve taken me from my mother. You’ve stolen three weeks of my life. You’ve made me into a prisoner in a gilded cage and now you’re mad that I’m not grateful for it. That’s not violence? That’s not hurting me?”
“You’ve been fine,” I argue, even though I know it’s a weak defense. “You’ve had everything you need?—”
“Except freedom!” Emma interrupts, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Except agency! Except the ability to make my own choices! You’ve taken all of that away and you’re acting like I should thank you because at least the cage is pretty!”
“What do you want me to say?” I shout, and I’m barely aware that I’ve moved closer, that we’re almost chest to chest now. “That I’m sorry? That I regret it? Because I don’t! Your father took my brother from me and I wanted him to suffer!”
“Then makehimsuffer!” Emma shouts back, her face red with anger. “Not me! I didn’t do anything to you! I’m not the one you want revenge against!”
“You’re what I have!” The words explode out of me before I can stop them. “You’re the only thing I could take from him that would matter! You’re?—”
“I’m a person!” Emma screams, and there are angry tears in her eyes that she refuses to let fall. “I’m not a thing! I’m not a possession! I’m not a weapon you can use against my father! I’m a person with my own life and my own feelings and my own?—”
“I know that!” I roar back, and I’m dimly aware that my hands have come up and I’m gripping her shoulders. Not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make her focus on me. “You think I don’t fucking know that? You think it hasn’t been eating at me for three weeks?”
“Then let me go!” Emma demands, her hands coming up to grip my wrists but not to push me away. “If you know I’m a person, if you feel guilty, then let me go!”
“I can’t!” The admission is torn from somewhere deep in my chest. “I can’t just—it’s not that simple?—”
“Itisthat simple!” Emma insists. “You just don’t want it to be! You want it to be complicated so you don’t have to admit you’re in the wrong!”
“I’m not—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Youare!” Emma’s voice is raw now and the tears are tracking down her cheeks, which makes me hate myself. “You’re wrong, Leo! You were wrong to take me! You’re wrong to keep me! You’re wrong to act like this is somehow justified because of what my father did! None of this is right and you know it!”
“So what?” I spit back, trying to fight back the guilt that’s clawing its way to the surface. “What do you want me to do? Apologize?Say I’m sorry and let you go back to your arranged marriage and your perfect little life?”
“I want you to admit the truth!” Emma shouts. “I want you to stop hiding behind grief and revenge and admit why you’re really keeping me here!”
What the fuck does she want from me? “I’ve told you why?—”
“Bullshit!” Emma’s hands tighten on my wrists, and it feels like a brand. “You’re not keeping me here for revenge anymore. You’re keeping me here because you’re lonely and I’m convenient and because having someone to have coffee with is easier than facing how empty your life is!”
I nearly rear back at her words. That’s not at all why I’m keeping her. “That’s not—” I try to deny it, but Emma steamrolls right over me.
“It is!” she shouts triumphantly, her eyes gleaming. “You wake up every morning and you look forward to seeing me. You plan our dinners. You find excuses to talk to me. This stopped being about revenge weeks ago and you’re just too stubborn to admit it!”
“And what about you?” I shoot back, my hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. “You could have kept trying to escape. You could have refused to talk to me. You could have made this miserable for both of us. But you didn’t. You played along. You had coffee with me and argued about restaurants and looked forward to our conversations just as much as I did!”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Emma argues, but her voice lacks conviction and I seize upon it.
“You had a choice,” I press. “Youchose to engage with me.Youchose to stop seeing me as just your kidnapper.Youchose to?—”
“To what?” Emma challenges. “To like you? To enjoy spending time with you? To forget that you’re keeping me prisoner?”
“Yes!” I’m practically shouting now. “To all of that! You’re just as complicit in this fucked-up dynamic as I am!”