Chapter 5 : Nightmares and Revelations
Emma had woken up before Rowan got back, perched on the giant bed and hugging her rabbit close. Panic-wide hazel eyes.
“You came back,” Emma said, relief flooding her tiny features.
“Did I ever leave?” Rowan replied, flopping down next to Emma. “I told you I would be back, didn’t I?”
Emma pulled herself up against Rowan’s side. “Did Daddy explain the rules?”
“The rules, sweetie?”
“The ones about staying. About being safe. About not letting her find us.”
Oh, there it was again—the vaguest of mentions for the most deeply feared person in the world.
“Who are you talking about, Emma?” Rowan asked. “Who are you afraid of?”
Emma’s face fell. “I’m not supposed to say her name. Daddy says it makes her more powerful.”
What kind of monster could traumatize a child so deeply that she was afraid to even speak the woman’s name?
“You don’t have to say her name. But you do have to tell me why you’re so afraid.”
Emma stared at her, and for so long that Rowan assumed she was going to say no. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper: “She used to live here. Before. She said she was my mommy, but she wasn’t like other mommies.”
Rowan stopped breathing. Emma’s mother—the woman who was presumed dead.
“What was she like?”
“Angry. All the time angry.” Emma’s small hands balled into fists in Rowan’s shirt. “She would yell and throw things and use mean words.”
“Did she hurt you?”
Emma’s silence said enough.
Violence coursed through Rowan’s veins like adrenaline. Someone had hurt this sweet child.
“But Daddy made her leave,” Emma went on. “He said she wasn’t allowed to live here anymore. And I was glad because she scared me.”
“When did she leave?”
“A long time ago. Before I started kindergarten. But sometimes I have dreams that she comes back. That she takes me away from Daddy and I never see anyone I love again.”
“Hey,” Rowan said, lifting Emma’s chin to eye level. “Your daddy won’t let anyone take you away. And neither will I.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. No one will take you away. Not when I’m here.”
Emma’s smile was a sunrise. She snuggled up against Rowan, wrapping her arms around her neck and squeezing.
For the next few hours, they just stayed together, and Rowan started to see the real Emma.
Bright, intelligent and curious, with a smile that lit up the whole tower when she felt safe. But even when she was happy, there were touches of fear. Emma checked doorways before entering rooms. Placed herself so that she could always see exits.
This child was a prey animal in her own home.
Night only brought exhaustion, but not safety.
Rowan woke to screaming.
Emma was thrashing on the bed beside her, wrapped up in a nightmare so bad that her little body shook. “No! Don’t take me! Daddy, help! She’s back! She’s coming to get me!”
Rowan scooped the child into her arms, but Emma was beyond reach in her panic.
The bedroom door burst open.
Asher filled the frame, hair mussed, shirt unbuttoned. Rowan got glimpses in the moonlight of tattoos crawling up his chest, scars that hinted at violence survived.
“How long?”
“Just now.” Rowan replied. She continued rocking Emma.
He crossed the room, settling on the bed at Emma’s other side. He put his hands on her, smaller and softer than Rowan had expected.
“Emma, baby girl, wake up. You’re safe. Daddy’s here.”
But when Emma opened her eyes, she was far beyond reason in the clutch of terror. “She’s taking me! She’s coming for me! Don’t let her take me!”
Something broke in Asher’s face. Pain so deep it almost had a physical dimension.
“She’s not here,” he said, his voice carrying the kind of weight that shreds through nightmares.
“She can’t be here. I took care of that.”
Emma’s thrashing subsided a little. “Promise?”
“I promise. She will never hurt you again.”
Emma’s breath finally evened out. Her hands came to grip both their arms, one clutching Rowan’s shirt, the other digging into Asher’s wrist.
“Tell me the story. The one about the tower.”
Asher began to speak: “Once upon a time, there was a glass and light tower, and inside that tower, there was a king with his most precious treasure, a little princess with jeweled eyes.”
“The king built walls around his tower not to keep his princess prisoner, but to keep the shadows at bay. Because there were monsters that wanted to steal her light.”
Emma’s breathing deepened and slowed.
“But the king was lonely in his tower,” she murmured, a touch drowsily. “Until the princess found someone special.”
Rowan’s breath caught. Somehow, she’d become a part of their mythology.
“That’s right,” Asher said softly. Storm-gray eyes flicking to hers. “Someone who chose to stay when everyone else ran away.”
Emma slipped back into sleep, but she would not let either of them go.
“This happens a lot?” Rowan whispered.
“Too often.” Asher’s voice was a soft rumble. “The doctors said it’s trauma. That time will fix it.”
“But you don’t believe them.”
“I know what caused the trauma. I know it’s still out there. Time does not heal wounds when the knife is still twisting.”
“She told me about her mother. About why she’s scared.”
Asher went completely still. “What exactly did she say to you?”
“That her mother used to live here. That she was angry and mean. That you made her go away.”
“And?”
“And that Emma’s afraid she’ll come back for her.”
The space between them filled with silence. Asher spoke after what seemed an age, his voice a whisper against his daughter’s hair.
“Vivienne isn’t dead.”
The words punched Rowan in the stomach. The world thought Vivienne Vance had died a year ago. Rowan knew now that it had been a lie.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
Somewhere out there, Emma’s mother—a woman dangerous enough to terrorize her own child—was at large.
“She could be anywhere.”
“She could be anyone. A new nanny. A friendly stranger. A reporter chasing a story.”
Rowan connected the dots. This was about more than protecting Emma from hangers-on. This was about keeping her from a monster who might wear her mother’s face.
“That’s why you can’t trust anyone.”
“I won’t let her hurt Emma again. I can’t.”
His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way that tore open Rowan’s chest.
“You’re not alone anymore.” Rowan said, without thinking.
His eyes snapped to hers, hunting for deceptions. But Rowan held his gaze.
“Why?” he asked.
Rowan glanced down at Emma. This brave, broken, beautiful little girl who’d taken to her like a lifeline.
“Because some things are worth fighting for.”
The words were both a promise and a declaration of war.
Because if Vivienne Vance wanted to hurt Emma, then she was going to have to go through Rowan first.
