Emma

Chapter Thirty.

I was about to fall asleep when the whinnying of a horse startled me. "Ackley," I whispered to myself.

I stand up, my arms around my chest as I shiver from the cold and the rain pouring on me, while I wait for Ackley to get closer. But when the horse gets closer, I can see that the animal's hair are not bright. They are dark. A very deep dark. And when his rider is finally discernable, I sigh. This is not Ackley.

When the rider sees me, he stops his horse and jumps off of it to run to me. Before he can do anything, I take a few steps back. And of course, my foot gets entangled in some roots and I fall on my butt. I am exhausted. I want to go home.

"Give me your hand"

I look up to Thomas, stretching out his hand to help me, but I refuse his help. "Don't touch me"

"Come on Emma, this isn't the time to be stubborn"

"How is John?" I ask, getting on my feet by myself.

"In the hospital"

"Good," I say. I turn around, giving my back to Thomas. "Now, you can go. I am waiting for Ackley"

"Your driver is not coming," retorts Thomas.

"He will," I reply. "I am his boss"

"I told him I'd get you home"

I scoff. "It would take death for Ackley to not come back to me"

"Well, he isn't dead. But he isn't coming either," insists Thomas. I turn around to face him. "Come on, let's get you home"

"No!" I shout, refusing his hand once again.

"Don't play with me, Emma"

"Then go. I don't need your help"

"You're soaking, and you might die if you stay here any longer"

"Then I'll die. But I will never accept your help once again," I state firmly. I turn around, again, and this time I walk away.

My arms still around my chest, I whisper some encouraging words to myself. I can do this, I am stronger than I think, I am Emma Langond; I am the last Langdon.

"I am sorry"

His words stop me. I don't face him because I know if I did, my heart would win. And right now, I have to listen to my mind.

"I lied," starts Thomas. "For one reason, I didn't want you to get broken the way I got broken. I don't want to see someone else die in my arms again. I don't want your blood on my hands. I don't want your broken heart in my palms. I don't want you to hate me. I want you to remain as you are"

"Innocent," I sigh.

Somehow, Thomas heard me through the rain. And he heard that my tone was everything but pleasant. With all the strength I still have, I turn to face him.

"Who told you I was innocent?" He doesn't answer. Surely because he doesn't have the answer. "I am everything but what you imagine. I am not innocent, nor pure, I am not the angel you think I am"

"You are"

"I am not! You made up this image of me in your head, this perfect image that does not reflect who I am-"

"And you haven't?!" Shouts back Thomas. I am stunned. I was the one talking, how dare he interrupt me. "You were the one who had all the information to know the truth. You knew the truth, the priest told you"

"I forgot it-"

"Oh yeah?" Scoffs Thomas. "Why? You're gonna tell me it was involuntary? Nothing with you is. You wanted to forget"

"Why would I forget that you are a murderer?" I retort.

"Because you don't want to accept it," replies Thomas. He takes a few steps toward me. "You don't want to accept that the person you feel close to is a criminal. It kills you"

Yes. It does.

"You had this image of me in your head. You wanted to think that I was a gentleman when I told you I wasn't"

He is wrong. "I never wanted you to be a gentleman"

"Then what did you wanted me to be?!" Shouts Thomas.

"Honest!" I yell. "I just wanted honesty and trust! The same trust I gave you, I wanted it back!" Thomas gets closer to me as I try to catch my breath. "How do you think I feel to hear and see all those women gaining your trust when I don't? I opened up my home to you, I went against reason to stay by you. And what did you give me in return? Nothing," I sigh, tired. But I can't stop myself anymore. "I gave you my trust Thomas. You didn't give anything in return. I travelled alone with you, I gave you details about my professional and personal life, you even met my dearest friends! I opened up my world to you. You just lied about yours"

Too tired to keep going, I let my head rest against his chest. I am tired of fighting. Today has been too long a day to keep on going like this.

"I trusted you, Thomas. I was ready to die for you. And what did you give me in return? Lies," tears fall down my cheeks. I have no energy to stop them, I have no energy to keep fighting a battle that I already lost. I might have bought half of Birmingham, but I cannot buy Thomas and even if I could, that is not how I want it to work.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

My hands on his chest, I look up to his eyes. He is sincere. At least, I think he is. How could I believe him now?

"How can I believe you, Thomas?" I demand, out of breath.

He sighs. I lay my head back on his chest, exhausted, and close my eyes. "Grace died in my arms, at a party. She was killed by order of Vicente Changretta, a mobster, who wanted to get revenge. John beat up his son and they shot Grace. I should've taken the bullet, not her"

I don't know what it feels like to lose its significant other, and I hope I will never have to go through this, but the pain in Thomas' voice gives me a small idea of how he felt. Feels.

"Arthur shot Vicente"

That's why the Changrettas lit a fire in Birmingham. They want revenge.

But if they want revenge against the Shelbys, they will all perish. The Changrettas are known for never losing a vendetta, they will not stop until all the Shelbys are dead and buried. They'll go through anything to kill them.

"Thomas, you have to be careful," I whisper. "You can't die. Not like that"

"I won't," he replies, frowning his eyebrows.

I sigh.

"Let me get you home now," says Thomas.

I nod. He puts one of his hand under my knees and the other on my back before walking back to his horse. Thomas helps me to get on it and he sits behind me, holding me between him and the bridle.

Was this explanation Thomas' way of giving me something back? Of showing me that I didn't give my trust away for nothing?

"What is your business with the Duchess?" I ask. If he wishes to gain my trust again, he'll answer.

"I was to act as a liaison to the Russians and supply them with weapons and tanks," replies Thomas without a second of hesitation. "The priest who spoke to you that evening, he was supposed to act as my handler. I discovered he was leaking information to the communists, which is why I have to make sure he doesn't mess with me again"

I am pretty sure this means he has to kill him.

"You wanted to kill the priest. I said yes. Now, you must obey"

That's why the Duchess said that, that night. I wasn't dreaming at all. It was true. All of it was true.

"I don't fucking obey. To anyone"

But Thomas didn't do it. He didn't kill him. Well, at least he didn't want to obey an order.

"Now you know," sighs Thomas. I do know. I know what matters. The death of his wife, and his current business affair.

"Tommy," he looks down at my face, slightly surprised I used this nickname. "Don't take me home. Not yet"