by Hazel Grace
“Wade,” Em voices. “Demi is dead.”
I blink.
I think that’s all my body does. I don’t feel it doing anything else besides staring at my assistant. Because the words that just left her mouth, well, I wouldn’t say she’s lying, but I’d say she was on some type of bullshit. My dreams don’t come true, I’ve had them with Demi being out of my life, not being able to walk around the living.
The folder that Em is holding gradually finds its way to my desk in front of me, but I make no effort to grab it. I’m just watching Em’s face turn a shade of white.
Okay, she hates Demi.
She’s part of some secret organization that I was just made privy to because allegedly since I’m the new president, these four other people wanted to make sure I wasn’t a lunatic that would use them and start popping people off.
“Did you do it?” My question is soft, I don’t recognize it being my voice, but it’s in the air and hits Emmy’s ears because she slowly shakes her head again.
“No.”
“Emmy...you just said...my stand-in wife is dead.” Her spine straightens—seen it a million times. She’s trying to keep her composure whether it’s from being pissed or upset. I’m not betting on the latter.
“Car accident,” she informs.
“Caused by what?”
Her brown eyes never leave mine when she says, “By B723.” I begin to rise, but she continues. “There’s more.” A heavy exhale is punched from my gut as my ass hits my leather chair again. “It’s Reagan.”
I jolt this time, knees hitting the edge of the desk, and I round it. My hands latch on to Emmy’s biceps, and I shake her.
“Where is she?”
“I think Camp Davi—” I shake her harder. I’m not sorry for it right now, but I will be later.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Demi had—Wade.” I follow her gaze to my bloodless fingers squeezing her skin, and I immediately release her. My hand rakes through my thick hair before I take a step back.
I can’t breathe. The room is beginning to spin. Emmy latches on to me, guiding me back until my ass hits the edge of my desk.
“Just sit down,” she professes gently. “Breathe through your nose and out of your mouth. You need—”
“Where the fuck is she?!” It’s cracked—everything. My voice, my body, my soul and heart.
My whole fucking world. I’m being driven to my wits end, and I can’t stop the acceleration of all this. I brought this upon the woman that I love, and there was no pumping the brakes. I’m plummeting headfirst without a safety net and lugging Reagan right along with me.
This is everything that was never supposed to happen. The entirety of every scenario that I knew might happen if I hired Reagan.
“There was a gunman who showed up. She’s—”
“Don’t fucking tell me that.” I drift back from her, batting away her words because they’re not true.
I won’t let them be.
However, Emmy’s brown eyes hold the validity of the words looming between us. Mine, they burn. My irises sting as I stare back at her like she has two heads.
“Em, please don’t.”
Her dainty fingers grip on to the sleeves of my Kiton suit. “Marty showed up. She’s alive.” A strangled discharge of air escapes my mouth like I was being strangled to death and given the opportunity to regain myself. “She’s on her way to—” The door to my office swings open, jerking my gaze to it.
Marty stands in the doorway, hair and clothes drenched from the rain and glaring at me like I just did something to him.
Maybe I did.
Fuck, I’ve done something to everyone who’s come near me.
Stepping aside, another figure appears behind the sullen wall of man whose only expression towards me is pissed. This one smaller and shorter—and mine.
Reagan’s dark hair is plastered to her face, her violet eyes immediately fall on me, and it’s all I need. She’s alive, doesn’t look to be hurt as she sprints to me and crashes into my frame.
My arms enclose around the shell of her soaked clothing that’s seeping into my suit. Her invigorated breathing begins to slow as my hands cup both sides of her head to examine her face, every bit of it, then down her body, looking for any trace of blood.
“She’s fine,” Marty snaps suddenly next to us. “Close the door, Tsarina.“ Pulling from my grasp, she does, and I don’t like the way her eyes appear.
They look defeated.
And I definitely don’t like the way her brother just ordered her around like he just did. With my eyes boring into his face, I don’t even get to open my mouth before he speaks again.
“Mr. President, you can serve the country safer now.” The motherfucker salutes me. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks to whom?” He hits me head-on with his confident and cocky-ass look of impassiveness.
“Me.”
“Marty,” Em sounds off from behind me. “Take a seat, I didn’t get to tell him everything.”
Mother of fucking hell.
“Get on with it then,” he instructs with a wave of his hand. “I still have plenty of—”
“I’ll be calling the shots around here,” I growl, suddenly closer to him. My adrenaline is sky-high, fury starts to boil in my gut, and I’m about half a second away from taking my chances and having him meet my fist. “You’re not the fucking—”
“The fucking what?” he shoots back through a glower. “I’m the motherfucker that just saved your ass.”
“According to Em, that was her that shot the assassin.”
Marty lets out a forced chuckle. “And I just saved your entire existence by killing your wife.” I don’t get to respond because Em stands in between us, her attention landing on Marty.
“Sit the hell down so I can tell him.”
Marty scoffs before rounding her to stride towards my desk. Em turns to face me. “Go take a seat. I’ll make sure all your questions are answered.”
I glance over at Reagan, who suddenly shivers, and I remove my coat, marching towards her to wrap it around her body.
“Come on,” I urge softly. “Look at me.” She does, beautiful purple-hued eyes trail back to me, and my heart skips a beat.
There’s no revoking the fact that I’m still madly in love with this woman. With every atom and molecule of me, I still completely belong to her. I’d kindly hand myself over as a sacrifice to take away everything that happened to her at Camp David.
A place that was supposed to keep her free from harm.
“Tell me if you are okay,” I mutter, brushing her jawline with my thumb. “I can’t listen to them when I don’t know how you are.”
“I’m okay, Yank.” My lips lift weakly, and she returns the gesture before my arm wraps around her back to have a seat in my chair.
Marty has already found my whiskey—the motherfucker—and takes a sip, three other glasses filled. At least he has the decency to share.
“Where to start,” Em drones—dare I say, nervously—as she stands next to Marty. “Well...Marty and I work together for B723. And he released the story of Henry and Demi’s love child.”
My gaze flicks to him as I settle in the chair next to Reagan, and it doesn’t go past me that Em just threw him under the bus. I’ll appreciate that later. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
I let the full blaze of my displeasure jab into the side of Marty’s face. However, he remains unfazed at how I want a couple of shots on him for putting Reagan through whatever it is I’m about to find out.
“So that the country wouldn’t mourn her so much after I disposed of her.” His eyes stay glued on Reagan as he mutters the words and takes a drink. Swallowing, he smacks his lips before muttering, “Tsarina.” Her head shoots up to him. “Drink this and warm up a little. Can you do that for me?”
She immediately nods and takes his glass that he’s reached over to hand her.
What in the…
“What did you do to her?” I car
p, anchoring my hands to the arm rests. “Why is she—”
“She’s seen too much,” Marty transmits, attention still locked on her. “Shit I didn’t want her to see.”
“Like what?” My neck twists to Reagan, still wrapped in my jacket and taking a sip of her whiskey.
“You should go rest,” Marty imparts. “While I talk with—”
“Tell him,” she quips abruptly. “Tell him everything. He needs to know...all of it.” Her brother continues to stare at her, a glint of worry shadowing over his face before he quickly corrects it.
Grabbing one of the other tumblers that he’s poured, he leans back in his seat. “The moment you start getting upset, you’re out of this room.”
“Then stop drinking,” she chides before glass meets his lips. Obediently and to my surprise, he places it back onto my desk with a thud and lets his back fall back into the seat.
“I’ve been assigned to you for well over a year now,” Marty begins, flicking his eyes to me. “Emmy and I became partners, and our mission was to make you president.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d allegedly be a good one,” he deadpans, not sounding fully convinced. Can’t say I blame him, I’m not completely sold on me doing this to full term and then signing on for a second.
“The idea was to keep you safe from everything and everyone,” Em proceeds with narrowed eyes at her partner. “B723 believed that with your no-bullshit attitude that you’d be a changing factor to this country’s development.”
“Demi was supposed to be killed before you took your vow of presidency,” Marty adds. “But we decided that it’d be too messy to throw the country into mourning over the whore. Unfortunately, she was too loved at the time, and our commander wanted more than her just being a cunt before we offed her.”
“Lay off on being an asshole,” Em chides.
“We didn’t want you to get the position based on people feeling sorry for you,” Marty continues. “We wanted the public to know you could handle the job so there would be no questions asked. We didn’t want it to be a turning point.”
“What do you mean a turning point?” I ask.
“You’re not going to please everyone,” Em says. “For the people that didn’t vote for you, we didn’t want them to plague people’s minds about you only getting it because your estranged wife died.”
“So we kept her.” Marty shrugs then squints his eyes at me. “But that was before I knew you were involved with my sister. Then Demi did what we wanted her to do—she fucked up.”
“She was working with the Russian I was telling you about, Nikolai Bogdanov,” Em adds in.
“And I confirmed that she was pregnant with his baby. She was going to have you killed then go off to live as some beloved American turned spy while having Nikolai’s child.” Marty shakes his head. “He’d have her killed within a year.”
“How did you do it?” I press. Marty isn’t concerned with my question as much as his sister. He’s watching her, studying her reaction before he responds.
“Torture, then we staged it look like she died in a car accident.”
“It’s all over the news.” Emmy grips the back of Mart’s chair. “You need to make a statement tomorrow.”
“How much did she see?” I nod towards Reagan. “What of this gunman Em was talking about?”
Marty snaps his focus back to me. “She saw enough. And the gunman was someone your wife must’ve blackmailed or had on the inside. I didn’t ask questions, he was dead on the floor the moment he pointed that gun at my sister.”
“Out.” My tone is on the brink of hysteria, and Em doesn’t argue, urging Marty to follow, who doesn’t.
“You’re not going to fill my sister with hope,” he sneers before his lips twitch. “Because your wife is—” He stops because Reagan is sending a dark glare at him right now. “You have only five minutes, Tsarina, then we’re leaving.”
She doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t wait for her to, following Em out of the room and allowing me time to really find out what the fuck is going on.
I can’t process Demi right now, not when I know something is wrong with Reagan, and she’s my priority.
Always has been, always will be.
Hunching down, I turn my chair so that her body is facing me. I spread her legs so that my body can fit in between them, and I peer up at her. She takes another sip of her whiskey, averting her gaze as it promptly falls to her lap.
“You’re lying,” I insert. “You’re not okay. Something happened, you’re in shock.”
“I’m safe,” she replies. “And you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”
My hands give her thighs a little squeeze, remembering her jeans are soaking wet. “You need to change, you’re going to get sick.”
“It’s not cold outside.”
“Doesn’t make me feel any better.” She bites the inside of her lower lip, attempting to hold on to her composure. “Erase everything, Sox. Every fucking thing...even me.”
Her lavender eyes meet mine. “I’d never do that.”
“You have to or you’re going to have one hell of a time.”
She gives a weak lift of her shoulders. “I’ll get over it.”
“Reagan,” I soothe, caressing the sides of her knees with my thumbs. “You need to get far away. A fresh start, baby, you need to leave all this behind.” Her eyes harden, followed by her lips setting into a fine line.
I’m ordering her around like her brother just did, and I’m sure she had to swallow a lot of responses with him, but she’ll have no problem letting me have it.
I deserve it—all of it.
“Don’t start,” she bristles in her chair. “Not you too.”
“I’m just trying—”
“To protect me. Just like I am with you.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?” She attempts to turn away from me, but I grasp her jaw and straighten it to have her look at me. “What did you do?”
She bites down harder on her lip, tears glimmer in her eyes, and she breaks out in a sob.
“I told her that you were mine. I listened to everything she did to you. That she killed your sister, your baby...I let Marty suffocate her while I listened to her struggle. I saw what he did...I heard her plea for mercy, but she didn’t deserve any. With her, you’d never have a chance to shine. You’d always be looking behind your back and wondering what she was going to do next. I let her die. I wanted—”
“Why did you do that?” I snap. “You shouldn’t have been there.”
“I begged Marty to let me.” A tear drops to her cheek. “She fucked your life, and I wanted to let my words be the last thing she heard. That I’d live seeing you shine. That she’d never be able to touch you again. She was going to have you raped, Wade. Raped. I’m morbid and—”
“You’re not.” I soften my voice. “You’re not, baby, you’re not.” I climb up her body, pulling her to me while I’m on my knees, and press my forehead to hers. “You’re not.”
“She almost killed you. And I would never recover from—” She breaks then, more tears dropping to her lap, and I can’t stand how she sounds right now.
It’s torture to listen to her break down in front of me. To have had to go through something like this without me there.
Not even I could save her. I’m as worthless to her as the next person. Reagan Shelton wasn’t someone I could safeguard, even while being the most powerful person in the country.
I had to let her go, out of my world and release her to be loved by another man.
I’ve leased too much time already.
♫ Without Me — Wind Walkers ♫
Marty paces my hotel room, I’ve never seen him do that before. He was always calm and collected, my rock who carried both of our weight and anxiety, and now I’m beginning to think it’s starting to take its toll.
I don’t fully regret what I did, I just didn’t want to watch it. But Marty seemed as though—I don’t know—that
he needed me.
It was this tug that I felt, the responsibility he took on of taking care of Demi that fed his urge for me to be somewhat near him. We argued over me being in the same room, but if I was going to support him, I wanted him to see me. Even if it meant having to experience something that most people won’t do or ever have to do.
“You promised to tell me everything,” I voice, watching him make another line across the beige carpet. “I know there’s something else. I can read it all over your face.”
“Haven’t you had enough, Tsarina,” he growls. “I don’t want to have to admit you for having a nervous breakdown.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I start to play with my fingers, picking at my cuticles because I know I’m not prepared for what’s going to come out of his mouth.
Not after what I’ve seen and how Marty had no problem doing it.
“It’s bad.” I stand from the bed, catching his focus, which gets him to stop moving. He looks ashamed and so nervous that it makes me feel like a bully demanding him to give me his brand-new pair of shoes before I beat his ass.
“Worse than what we did today?” He nods before bowing his head into his chest.
“Tsarina, you will hate me after this.”
I reach for him, clasping on to his forearms. “Look at me.” He doesn’t. “Marty, please.”
“Please don’t make me,” he mutters. “I love you too much.” His tone shatters me open, vulnerable and scared.
I never want him to feel like I will judge him for what he has done in the military or this secret organization that he’s now a part of.
I don’t like it, he knows that, but we haven’t talked about the future. We haven’t discussed what’s going to happen to Mama and if we keep all of this a secret. He doesn’t need that life anymore, but it’s all he’s known since the age of eighteen.
“I will never abandon you,” I lift. “Ever. Especially after...” I can’t finish because just the idea and reminiscing of Demi makes my gut drop. “You’re my brother, you’ve always been my protector. I will always love you.” He steps out of my reach, giving us a foot apart as he proceeds to shake his head.
“No—” He wags his index finger in the air. “—I know you.”