Page 89 of Threads That Bind Us
“Unfortunately, yes,” I admit, grimacing.
I know this is necessary, that she’s too young right now to fully understand the scope of the secrets she’ll have to keep if she knows. But I also know it hurts Gwen to keep these things from her.
“This is all my fault,” she mutters, tears dropping onto her lap.
“It’s not,” Gwen says, and I nod along with her. So does Zane. “It’s not your fault that you got cancer, and it’s not your fault that it costs money to treat it, and it’s not your fault I needed help to pay for it. The world isn’t always fair, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”
“You already do so much for me,” Ana whispers, wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. “And I thought this was finally for you, you know? I hate it was for me.”
They’re so alike, Gwen and Ana. So desperate to prove that they can do everything on their own, that no one needs to inconvenience themselves to support them. Gwen reaches out for her sister’s hand, and Ana lets her take it.
“I’m sorry we lied to you,” I say, and I mean it. Even though there was no logical way for us to tell Ana from the start, I’m still sorry. “And I’m sorry we can’t tell you everything now. But I promise moving forward, we’ll be as honest with you as we can.”
She collects herself for a minute, her eyes red-lined but dry as they meet mine.
“You really love her?” she demands, her voice wobbling a little. “You swear that you guys aren’t lying about that?”
“I’ve never lied to you about that,” I promise. “I loved your sister from the moment I saw her. I swear, Ana.”
Months ago, as we sat in a cafe, Ana gave me one of these looks. Like she was trying to find the lie she knewwas there in my eyes. It had been easy to put on a facade, knowing it was necessary to make Gwen and I work.
But now, I give her the same grace I do Gwen. I don’t put up any walls or shows, I just let her see that I’m being honest. That I love Gwen, and I love Ana because Gwen loves her.
“Okay,” she whispers. And we drive home.
Chapter 31
Gwen
Ipress the tip of the blade under Ben’s chin, watching his pupils dilate in fear. He tries to force muffled screams from behind the gag, but it seems he’s too afraid to thrash his head back and forth anymore. Probably for the best.
Charlie’s fingers trail up my arm as he presses his lip to the corner of my jaw. My head swims pleasantly, and I let my eyes flutter shut just for a moment as I lean into the sensation.
“Playing with your food, mia filettatura?” Charlie whispers into my skin, and the smile that spreads across my lips is impossible to suppress.
“He deserves it,” I say, feeling a small trickle of blood flow down my fingers. The boat rocks again, and I lean against Charlie for support.
We’ve been out here for a few hours with Ben. His body is littered with slices and bruises, evidence of our time together. Charlie has praised me multiple times for how much I’ve learned, based on the fact that Ben is still alive.
Charlie unties Ben’s gag, and he immediately starts screaming for help, which is useless. There’s no one around usfor miles. The little yacht we’re on is nice—it’s a shame it’ll be at the bottom of the ocean soon.
“You’re certain I can’t have your mother join us?” Charlie asks, close to my ear so I can hear him over Ben.
I had thought about whether my mother deserved this. If she had hurt me and Ana enough that I could put a knife or bullet through her heart. Or at least ask Charlie to do it.
But after significant consideration, I decided I couldn’t. Even after everything that had happened between us, I know she once loved me. Maybe she still does, in her own way.
“Thank you, my love, but no,” I reply, palming the handle of the knife while the boat settles. “I’m getting exactly what I want.”
Ben’s cries turn to whimpers as my husband wraps his arms around my middle from behind, pulling me against him. I can feel him, hard and straining against the zipper of his pants, and I arch my ass against him with a smile. It never gets old, this feeling when we kill together.
Charlie huffs a laugh into my neck and separates our bodies, busying himself with a wide variety of blades and tools. Ben’s eyes grow wide in fear, and he yanks against his restraints again. Desperate to save a life worth nothing.
“You’re going to get caught,” he pants, his voice desperate and cracking under the weight of his screams. Charlie takes a seat at the table on the other side of the room. “I’m your sister’s father. Someone’s going to make the connection.”
“Honestly, thank you for the opportunity to talk about this, because I’msoproud of how we got around that,” I say, stabbing the knife directly into his thigh. I can hear Charlie’s laugh over the sound of Ben destroying his own vocal chords. I might be enjoying this a little too much.
“It took some patience, which isnotmy virtue,” I sigh, slipping into Charlie’s lap. His hands wrap around my thighs as Isink into him. One hand settles on my hip before dragging up the side of my shirt and drawing indiscernible shapes on my ribs. “But we have a friend who was extremely helpful in setting up as much distance between us as possible. And settingyouup for a very tragic downfall.”