Illusions

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Bae, what do you plan on doing here?" She gently asks, as sweet and tender as her voice can produce to calm the raging persona within this man she hardly knows. "You know you can't shoot me, unless you want to spend the rest of your life behind bars."

"Well, I can't run off and have you warn everyone," he acknowledges, his eyebrows knitting together as he contemplates his next move and dear god, does Emma wish she had her gun right now. "Hand over your phone," he demands coldly.

"Alright," she softly agrees, very slowly reaching into her pocket and retrieving the device. The moment it's in her hand and out of her pocket, Bae snatches it away and shoves it into his own pocket. "Now what? I'm not going to fight you here, Bae. I promise."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs in disbelief while rolling his eyes at her. "Alright...uh, do you have a gun on you?" He nervously questions, revealing how out of his element he truly is.

"No, I don't carry one while undercover," she admits, hoping to ease his worries and maybe gain his trust. "Look, you can go. I swear, I'm not going to run after you and you have my phone, so it's not like I can really call anyone," she attempts to persuade him, however, there's a creaking sound coming from above them, disrupting their conversation.

"Someone is here," Bae harshly whispers, his deep brown eyes roaming over the ceiling above them.

"No, don't be ridiculous. There isn't anyone in the house except you and-"

"No, I bet you Regina's kid is here," he rebuttals, but Emma's phone buzzing again in his pocket redirects his attention.

He quickly pulls out her phone with one hand, his lips puckering out as his eyes shift to read the message left behind for only Emma's eyes. He clicks his tongue and angrily tosses the phone across the room, against the wall, causing it to shatter as it hits the ground. Emma flinches, but before she can even think her next thought, Bae roughly grabs Emma's leather jacket in one swift motion and shoves her toward the door.

"Let's go. You're coming with me," he growls, persuading Emma's feet to shuffle toward the door.

"O-okay, where are we going?" She gently inquires.

He doesn't bother answering, instead he presses the gun into the middle of her back and pins her between the door and his husky body. "You're going to walk calmly to your car without making a scene. I'm going to put the gun away, but if you even think about running, I will shoot," he threatens, his hot breath whispering in her ear and sending all the wrong kind of shivers to torture her body like an infectious disease.

And while she is trapped beneath his heavy weight, with his breath against her ear and the gun pressing into her back, she knows she can't make any risky moves and she must follow his every demand. Normally, she would fight under the predicament. She would lash out irrationally, dive into the suspect, forcefully yank the gun free, find another type of weapon to knock the person out when they are least expecting it, but this time she doesn't fight back. She can't.

For once in her career, in her life to be more specific, she has loved ones to consider. Before she could make hasty and bold moves, because it really didn't matter what happened to her. Nobody would ever care if she was gone, nobody would sob hysterically over her dead body and pray to anyone listening to reverse the clock. Except now, she does. She has Regina and Henry to consider and she knows she has to place their feelings before her stupid ideas that might end up killing her. She can't possibly risk causing more pain and damage to either of their lives and she knows in her heart, if something were to happen to her, it would break both of them.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and nods along. "You're in control, I'm not going to run," she solemnly swears.

"Good. Now let's move," his rough voice murmurs in her ear as he reaches in front of her and unlocks the front door. "I'm driving, so walk calmly to the passenger side, do you understand me?"