The Wife Pact_Emerson

by Charlie Hart

  Huxley crosses his arms. “How’s that going to work when we all work here?”

  “Again, it’s a large plot of land. We could build a small airport and have Fallon fly us on and off the island for work. And it’s really not that far by boat either.”

  My heart leaps at the idea, but I see the unease in Em’s eyes as he watches the expressions of the others.

  “That’ll cost a shit load of money,” Huxley mutters.

  “Good thing you’ve got a shit load in your bank account,” Salinger says, grinning. “I love the idea.”

  “So do I,” I say, my heart swelling when I see Em’s face light up. “What better place to raise our children? And we’d be close to Em’s mom. I could really use her knowledge and help when the babies come. And think about all that space. We could build rooms for each of the children, and a playground, and have our own barn, with animals... maybe even ponies.”

  Both Emerson and Banks start laughing at something I said, but I don’t care, I’m excited. The dangers facing my pregnancy momentarily forgotten.

  “We could start the plans now,” Em says. “Even if we work part-time on it, we could have the place finished by next year. And I know my brothers will help--”

  “Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Huxley interrupts.

  The room goes silent, and I can feel the tension mount. Because even though he doesn’t say the words, I know what he means.

  If I don’t survive. Or if our children don’t survive, it would all be for nothing.

  But they will survive. I believe it in the deepest part of my soul.

  “Our children will be born.” I make sure to meet each of my husband’s gazes. “And they’ll need a home. If I don’t...” I swallow hard. “If I don’t make it--”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Huxley mutters.

  “Tia,” Fallon warns, ignoring him. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “But I have to. I need you to know what I want.”

  “Okay.” Fallon sighs, pulling me to him. “Tell us.”

  I tremble as I speak, knowing the words need to be said. “Build a house for them on the island. Let them run and play. Let them be children without all the chaos of the world we know. Build them a home. And most importantly...” Emotions twist inside of me and I can barely utter my final words, but I force them out. “Be a family, even if I’m not there.”

  I hear one of my men choke on a sob, but tears blind me, so I don’t know who it is. But when I blink and each of their handsome faces come into view, each one of them is holding back emotions.

  God, I love these men.

  “Okay,” Giles finally says, stepping forward and pulling me against his chest, his dark red beard tickling my chin when he brushes his lips against mine. His green eyes are full of strength and resolve when he pulls back and holds my gaze. “We will. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  I let his strength surround me, and I feel a small amount of peace because I know Giles will make sure my wishes are brought to fruition. He’ll be the rock that holds them all together.

  “You’re going to make wonderful dads,” I whisper, blinking back tears and making sure to hold each of their gazes for a long moment. “All of you.”

  I know that no matter what happens, my children will be loved and cherished. My husbands really will make wonderful fathers.

  I just pray that I’ll be there to see it.

  “Where’s Huxley?” Banks asks when he comes into the living room, a deep frown drawing his features tight.

  Huxley has been disappearing more and more often lately, and the darkness I sensed in him after he returned from St. Augustine's seems to have consumed him. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he just brushes my concerns away, growing more distant as the days pass.

  “Who knows where he goes,” Fallon mutters.

  “I think he went to the shop,” Salinger says.

  I snuggle against Fallon’s chest as Giles rubs my feet. One of the benefits of being pregnant is that my husbands pamper me even more than before. I could get used to the way they wait on me. And even though my morning sickness is gone, thanks to Em’s flower, I allow them to indulge me any way they want.

  I just wish Huxley was more at peace. As much as I love the gifts he showers me with, what I really want is to see his blue eyes sparkle with the light that’s been dimmed recently.

  Banks paces in front of the television, seemingly agitated, or maybe excited, I can’t tell. Whatever it is, it’s clear he has something to tell us.

  Salinger turns off the movie we were watching. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Banks sits down on one of the free armchairs and breathes out heavily. “I wanted everyone here for this, but since Huxley seems to be MIA most of the time, I’ll tell you all now.”

  I sit straighter, knowing whatever he has to say most likely has to do with me.

  “Banks?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

  He leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands locked together, knees bouncing.

  “What is it?” Fear tightens my voice.

  “I can save you.” He meets my gaze, eyes locking on mine, his expression serious.

  Silence meets his statement because I’m pretty sure we can all hear the but that he’s about to say.

  “You’re certain?” Fallon asks, fingers lacing with mine.

  “Her hormones are stabilized thanks to the myosotis parviflora. And with the information I unlocked on the USB, I believe I’ll be able to keep her body from attacking itself and the babies. Obviously, the complications are still high because of the multiples, but with my treatment plan, I don’t believe there’ll be any more risks than there was in the past.”

  I can still hear the but in his voice.

  “Then what’s wrong?” I ask shakily, wanting to hold onto the hope his words should give me.

  Banks can save me. Save our children. We’ll survive this, move to the island and raise our children. And no one will ever be able to touch us again.

  “This is good, right?” I ask cautiously.

  “Tia...” Banks meets my gaze and lets out a shaky breath before saying, “What your father did to you... It’s what will save you.”

  I frown. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Chills mix with heat racing down my core. “Then my father, he found a cure? That’s what you’re saying?”

  Hope.

  Hope.

  Hope.

  “It’s not that simple.” Banks stands abruptly and starts pacing again. “What he did to you, he’s tried the same thing on hundreds of women. You’re the only one that survived. The question is why?”

  Banks mumbles something under his breath, something I don’t hear, but I catch Fallon’s gaze, and he frowns.

  “What the fuck does it matter?” Fallon says. “If you can save Tia. That’s all that matters.”

  “No.” Banks shakes his head.

  A shiver races down my spine. “You’re scaring me. Just say whatever it is you’re holding back. I...we can handle it.”

  “I think I know.” He stops, then starts pacing again. “I think I know why the treatment worked on you. Your father administered it when you were pre-pubescent. Before you’d become a woman.”

  “So, that’s the answer then?” Giles asks. “Can you replicate the treatment?”

  “Possibly. But it’s still dangerous. Even Tia...” He scrubs his hands over his face. “The files showed that she almost died. That she barely survived.”

  Muttered and violent curses fill the room.

  I barely remember that period of my life, and maybe that’s why.

  “You were stricken with fever, bedridden for months,” Banks continues, but I can tell he’s in his head; that there’s more he’s not telling us. “I can’t take that risk with others. Even if I was given permission to start treatments. It’s barbaric. Won’t. Can’t.”

  Silence.

  While we sho
uld be celebrating the fact that Banks can save me and our babies, the weight of humanity’s fate seems to rest over the room. Even more so when Banks continues.

  His hands curl and uncurl into fists. “I thought I was at another dead end, until...”

  “Until what?” Salinger asks, words slow, leery.

  “Until...” He rests his hands on the backrest of the armchair and his head and shoulders drop when he says quietly. “I administered some of your blood to a few of my pregnant test rats.”

  “You did that without telling her?” Fallon growls out. “Or us? That’s something that should have been--”

  “It’s fine,” I say, knowing I’d already given Banks permission to do what had to be done to find a cure. “And?”

  “They all survived, including the pups.”

  I suck in a breath. “You think my blood might be the cure?”

  Banks winces. “For rats infected by the virus, yes. But with human subjects, I believe a more invasive procedure would be needed.”

  “What?” I’m trembling, waiting for him to drop the bomb.

  “Spinal fluid, possibly embryonic fluid. Injected in the early stages of pregnancy I believe--”

  “What the hell does that mean for Tia?” Fallon barks out.

  “I’d need to take a large sample--”

  “No fucking way.” Salinger stands, looking like he’s ready to fight.

  “Just let him talk,” I say, standing as well and placing a hand on Sal’s arm. “If I can help save millions of lives, I have a responsibility to do whatever I can.”

  “What’s the risk?” Giles asks calmly despite the war I see raging behind his eyes.

  Banks doesn’t answer right away. Finally, he says stiffly, “The chance of infection, of brainstem herniation, of miscarrying is high. Especially, since she’s carrying multiples.”

  “Then the answer is one hundred percent no.” Fallon stands as well.

  “What if we wait until after I’ve given birth--”

  “It needs to be done while you’re pregnant. Your body is creating antibodies that aren’t produced normally. If I can study them, I think I may be able to create a vaccination.”

  “A cure.” Icy fingers snake down my body as I realize what he’s saying. “You’re telling me that the only way to find a cure for all women, everywhere--to this entire worldwide population crisis, is to put my children’s lives at risk?”

  He closes his eyes and nods.

  Just when a sliver of hope is given to me, it’s snatched away. Because how can I live with myself knowing if I don’t give Banks what he needs. I was wrong when I thought the weight of the world had fallen on the room. It was the fate of humanity that now rested on my shoulders.

  And I have no idea what I’m going to do.

  Chapter 24

  Emerson

  I’ve always believed the saying that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. But watching my wife as she processes the news Banks hands her, I wonder if she just might break under the weight of it.

  Shit, just knowing the choice she has to make -- and it does have to be her decision -- almost breaks me.

  “I... I need a minute,” she says, before walking out of the room.

  I want to follow her, to tell her everything will be okay, but the fight that’s about to break out between the men stops me.

  “Why the fuck would you even tell her that?” Fallon yells.

  “Because she has a right to know.” Banks doesn’t back down. “What do you think she would do if I’d kept it from her, and she found out that she could have been the cure?”

  “Banks is right,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around this information. “Are you certain the babies will die if you extract the fluid?” I ask Banks hoping I heard something wrong.

  “Yes.” His single word is firm.

  “Then she won’t do it,” I say, knowing my wife’s heart.

  The others don’t look as convinced.

  “If anyone finds out about this, other scientists, other families...” Banks shakes his head. “Fuck, I think people will be banging on the door of the compound, forcing Tia to undergo the procedures.”

  Salinger nods. “Hell, I wouldn’t even trust my own mother’s reaction. As twisted as it sounds, we are talking about the lives of six babies in exchange for thousands, millions saved?” Salinger runs his hands through his hair, clearly stressed.

  We all are.

  “Her father is a fucking monster,” Fallon growls, and I couldn’t agree more. Who would do this to their own child? Knowing what it would cost?

  “No wonder Tia’s father is so desperate to get her back,” Giles says. “He knows how valuable she is for the human race. She is the cure.”

  “What’s going on?” Huxley asks coming into the compound, his brows knit with exhaustion. He has a messenger bag on his shoulder and is carrying a box with both hands.

  “You should sit down. Let me help you with that,” I say taking the box from him, knowing he’s going to need a moment to collect himself once he hears the news.

  He holds the box tightly though as I try to take it from his hands. Maybe he doesn’t intend to tug back so hard, but it causes him to lose his balance and the box topples to the floor.

  “Sorry, man,” I say, kneeling down as papers flutter around us. “Just trying to help. You’ve been at work for hours.”

  “It’s fine, I got this,” Hux says, his voice sharp, his hands flying out to push me back. “Don’t.”

  “You alright, Hux?” Salinger asks, frowning as the man scrambles around for the papers.

  “I’m fine.”

  But it’s obvious he isn’t. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I know he deals with some shady people in his line of work, but he looks like he’s been put through the wringer since I’ve seen him last.

  He keeps grabbing at the papers, shoving them in the box, and when he finishes, we tell him to take a seat. As if it takes all his energy, he acquiesces and falls into a leather armchair. I exchange a look with Salinger who seems concerned.

  “I have some information,” Banks tells him, either not noticing Huxley’s uncharacteristic attitude, or not caring. “It’s about our wife.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  Banks starts to explain everything to Huxley who listens halfheartedly, his foot tapping the entire time, practically wringing his hands.

  “Can I get you something, man?” I ask. “You seem--”

  “Upset?” he scoffs. “Yeah, I am. You’re telling me some pretty fucked up information.”

  “Dude,” I say, raising my hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help. No one could get a hold of you for the last several hours and you come back not acting like yourself and --”

  “And what?” he asks, cutting me off. “You think just because you’re some Golden Boy, you can fix everybody's problems, Emerson?”

  “I don’t want to fix anyone. I was just trying to help.”

  “Yeah?” he asks sourly. “Well, you can’t help me.” He stands and reaches for a bottle of whiskey on the bar cart. Uncorking it, he takes a swig and begins pacing the room.

  “Why, exactly, are we talking about you right now?” Fallon asks, not interested in Huxley’s apparent breakdown. “Let’s talk about Tia. What should happen next? How we can keep her safe.”

  “Safe,” Huxley scoffs shaking his head and taking a long pull on the bottle. “None of you can keep her safe. You’re all living in a fucking fantasy.”

  “Hux, what’s wrong?” Tia asks, coming back into the room. It’s obvious she has been crying, but right now the look in her eyes is only worry for her husband

  “Nothing,” Huxley mutters, dropping back into an armchair. “Everything.”

  Tia’s face falls and she steps into the room, her eye catching on something as she comes closer. She leans down and picks up a stray piece of paper that floated under a table.

  “What is this?” Her voice is deadly st
ill, her eyes scanning the page.

  “What?” Hux says, eyes widening when he sees the paper in her hand.

  “What have you done?” she asks, her words tight with fear.

  I take the sheet from her. It is a printed email. With today’s date.

  Huxley,

  Your information has once again, proven to be most valuable.

  We will be picking up our asset in two days.

  This wouldn’t be possible without your help in the matter of locating patient C65.

  Please ensure our patient is at the specified coordinates as have been discussed.

  As our contract agrees, you will receive payment upon pick-up.

  -Warren Thorne

  Tia is shaking, but not with sorrow, with anger.

  “Tell me that isn’t what it looks like.” She moves toward him, grabbing the bottle from his hand, flinging it aside. “Tell me you haven’t betrayed me. Betrayed all of us!”

  Huxley’s expression remains deadpan. “I can’t tell you that, Tia.”

  I step closer to my wife, catching her as she collapses to the floor.

  Tears fall down her face, her eyes wild with rage and she sobs in my arms. Looking up at Huxley she asks, “ Do you know what you’ve done? He’s a monster, Huxley. A monster.”

  “I know,” he says as if detached from her entirely. “But I figured by now you’d realize that I’m a monster too.”

  Continue the Journey

  The Wife Legacy is the final story in a six-book dystopian romance series. The passion is high but the stakes are even higher. Tia and her rugged husbands are in the wilds of Alaska fighting for their lives - and for their love.

  About the Author

  Swoonworthy romances from the heart!

  ❤️

  Chantel Seabrook writes hot, steamy paranormal and fantasy romances with possessive bad boys, and the passionate, fiery women who love them.