Page 55 of Bound By Blood and Lies

The last week has been strange enough that reality itself feels unreliable. Every new development has come with a catch, every moment of calm hides something else underneath it. Nothing has been straightforward. Nothing has been safe. So I sit there listening to the quiet of the house, trying to decide whether what just happened was genuine or just another layer of whatever game Longstaff has been playing with me this entire time.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

Just when I start to convince myself she isn’t coming back, the frantic footsteps return. Fiona appears a second later, filling the frame as she steps back into the room with something heavy gripped tightly in her hands. My entire body shivers when I see the bolt cutters. The sight of them sends a wild feeling through my chest, and the possibility of freedom flashes so brightly it makes my vision blur. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes before I can stop them, and my handstightenin the sheets as I try to swallow the reaction down.

Hope is dangerous.

I’ve already learned that the hard way.

The memory of my last attempt crashes straight into that fragile feeling, and my stomach twists as the fear returns. I’m already bracing myself for the possibility that this is about to go very, very wrong again.

“Wait,” I say quickly as she liftsthe cutters.“What about your husband?”

“He’s gone, it’s just us,” she replies calmly kneeling by the bed again. “I was watching him from outside. He has been acting strange for weeks and when I finally had enough, I followed him.”

Her voice shakes slightly as she positions the cutters around the chain. “I thought he was seeing another woman,” she continues bitterly. “I waited out there until he left so I could come in and see what the hell he’d been hiding.”

Her eyes flick up to mine.

“I never expected this.”

The metal snaps.

We both look down as the chain falls away from the cuff with a heavy clatter, the sound of metal striking the floor feels far louder than it should. Neither of us moves. The broken length of it lies twisted against the boards, dull and ugly now that it’s no longer holding me in place. Fiona stares at it like it personally offended her before she exhales slowly through her nose.

“That fucking monster,” she hisses whilst moving on to my wrist.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter as the metal snaps again.

Her hands move to steady my arms the moment my weight shifts off the bed. The sudden closeness makes my chest tighten and before I can stop it tears begin slipping down my face. She pulls me into her without hesitation, wrapping her arms around me and pressing my head against her shoulder. Her hand comes up to my hair, patting it softly in that instinctive, maternal way that makes my chest burn.

I can’t believe this is real.

My body doesn’t seem to know what to do with the contact and the reality of what’s happening is only just beginning to land.

The chain is gone.

The door is open.

And I’m suddenly only moments away from freedom.

“Where are we?” I croak.

“My house in London.”

I suck in a slow breath as my eyes move around the room. This must be where he grew up. An image of a younger Roman flashes through my mind as I imagine him running through these rooms, bringing his friends back here during the weekend with the kind of careless happiness that only exists before you realise how dark the world can be. I can see itsoclearly; the warmth this place must have once held. The easy comfort ofChristmasdinners, the chaos of birthday celebrations, and the small ordinary memories that slowly turn a house into a home.

But that feeling is gone now.

Whatever light this place once held has been swallowed by something darker. The walls that should have held happy memories now feel tainted.

“What about Robyn?” I gasp suddenly. “She was with me when I was taken.”

Fiona’s hand pauses against my back, “I haven’t seen anyone else.”

“She has to be here!” the words burst out of me, sharp with panic.