Page 68 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“I’m sorry.”

I gulp as the words slip out. But it’s true. I am sorry. For all of it. For the chaos tearing through this house, for the pain sitting behind Roman’s eyes, for the war that has just been dropped on her doorstep. Her expression softens and the gentleness in it makes my lungs pull tight. My bottom lip trembles before I can stop it, overwhelmed by the quiet love she seems to offer so easily.

“Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs.

Her fingers squeeze mine before she lifts one hand to brush a loose strand of hair away from my face.

“One day you’ll be a mum, and when that happens, you’ll understand something,” she pauses. “There is never a choice between your children’s happiness and your partner. My husband made his choice. And I’ve made mine.”

Her gaze drifts across the room to Roman before returning to us. A soft smile touches her lips and she squeezes my hand. Then she looks between Robyn and me where we’re huddled together on the sofa and leans forward, gently cupping Robyn’s cheek. Her thumb brushes lightly over the fading bruises there. Tears gather in her eyes, but her smile only deepens.

“I don’t regret it.”

Emotion rises up my throat as my hand drifts down again, pressing gently against my stomach. I think being trapped in that room turned the future into something distant I didn’t have to face. Something that belonged to a version of me that might not even make it out. But now it’s here, sitting under my hand whether I’m ready for it or not. I swallow hard because for weeks my body only knew survival. It only knew fear that sank so deep it stopped feeling temporary. There was no space for anything beyond the next hour, the next breath, the next second except keeping Robyn alive.

But now there’s this.

A life.

A future.

My eyes blur as I glance toward Fiona again, trying to hold onto the strength in her voice when she spoke about Roman. The certainty. The love so large that she never even paused to question where her loyalty belonged and I shiver. I just realise something I hadn’t let myself think about until now; if someone ever hurt this child… if someone ever chained them to a wall or made them feel the kind of terror that still wakes me up in the middle of the night… I would burn the entire world down to get them back.

Suddenly Fiona’s choice doesn’t feel shocking at all.

It feels inevitable.

Riggs claps his hands loudly beside the kitchen, the sharp crack makes Robyn jump. Felix’s head snaps up and the look he fires across the room is sharp enough to cut glass. Riggs just winks back at him and ignores it.

“Well, this is depressing as hell,” he announces to the room.

Victor shoots him a flat glare but Riggs pushes himself away from the doorframe with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Anyone fancy playing a game?” he continues brightly. “Charades? Pictionary? Interpretive dance?”

“You’re an idiot,” Atlas mutters without looking up from his laptop.

Riggs grins wider. “Thank you.”

A small laugh escapes Robyn beside me and the tension in the room loosens just a fraction. The sound is soft and a little shaky but it still warms me. I realise how much I missed the careless way she used to laugh at the boys when they were being ridiculous, the way it used to fill whatever room we were in until the rest of us couldn’t help joining in. For weeks the only sounds around us were chains, shouting and the dull echo of concrete walls. Hearing her laugh again feels like something precious returning to the world.

Across the room Felix’s attention flicks to her, the hard edges in his face eases as he watches her. Riggs notices too. His grin turns sly as a spark of mischief lightens in his eyes and he straightens, clearly pleased with himself for pulling that sound out of her. A phone rings again, but the sharp “fuck” that follows cuts straight through the room.

Everything stops.

Roman is staring down at his phone before he looks at Fiona and the colour slowly drains from his face.

“It’s my dad.”

Beside me Robyn lets out a small, broken whimper. A quick look passes between us and a quiet note settles in the back of my mind to speak to her alone about what happened in that cellar. Roman lifts the phone before pressing the button for the speakerphone and setting it down on the table between us.

“Roman,” Longstaff’s voice spills through the lounge and ice shoots straight down my spine.

Roman’s gaze stays fixed on the phone like it’s a poisonous animal that’s just crawled onto the table.

“Father,” he replies tightly.

“Hello, son,” Longstaff purrs. “I hear you have something of mine.”