BROKEN HOPE (Broken Redemption Book 2)

Prologue

Emilia

The Night He Left

(3 Years Ago)

Endings are the start of new beginnings.

That is what they say, isn't it? What well-meaning folks wrap around you like a warm blanket, as if the saying is the antidote to heartbreak and disappointment. Not until today had I questioned the premise of the saying. Never did I see it for the lie it truly is, for there is no comfort to be found in watching the life you love come to an end. Much less in the prospect of a beginning, you don't want.

"Just sign the papers, Emilia."

"I don't understand. Why the rush? We should wait until—"

"God damn it, woman!" He roars and slams a fist against the black marble countertop of our kitchen island. "Don't you get we're out of fucking time! Five hours from now, I'll be gone and on my way to the most important assignment of my career. I need this done, so I can focus on not getting myself killed!"

"How can you want this? After everything..." I step forward, reaching out for him in hopes the physical contact will help remind him of the life we share. When strong fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me, a deep sense of sadness chokes me up and renders me unable to speak.

"This isn't working for either of us anymore," he states matter-of-factly, as though my opinion on the matter means nothing. "I know it and deep down you know it, too."

"No Creed. That's not true..."

"Will you fucking stop!" he screams as he grips my arms and shakes me violently. When he realizes what he's done, he pulls me hard against his chest and wraps me up in a tight embrace. "Please, Emi. Just stop..." he begs over my head, his pained whisper blowing through my hair like an agonizing caress.

I can sense his desire to diffuse the tension between us. It's like we've been catapulted into an alternate universe where I'm the one that fights and he's the one who appeals for peace. The sudden role reversal is jarring, and further strains the deep sense of dread I can't seem to shake.

Still, after months of missing his touch, my body sinks into him. Even as this embrace is a far cry from the way he used to hold me, I close my eyes and soak it in. The smell of aftershave and the way it mixes with his scent somehow helps to ease the ache inside my chest. The relief is short-lived, however, for when he steps away and puts the kitchen island between us, my heart sinks at the realization he won't be swayed.

"It's over. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. We don't work. Not because of you, but because of me. I'm a selfish bastard who'll do or say whatever it takes to get what he wants and from the moment we met, all I wanted was you."

"I don't understand. You have me." I move to get closer, but he raises a hand to stop me.

"No. You're not listening, and I need you to hear this. I wanted you, so early on I learned all I had to do was convince you I could give you the life you wanted. I knew that once I got you to the altar, all bets would be off because you would never, ever leave me. No matter how short I fell on the promises I made, you'd stand by me because it's who you are. Loyal to a fault." He scoffs as though he's disgusted by my sense of loyalty, but in his eyes, I see the truth. It's a quality he admires.

"I never had that before I met you, you know? The way you loved me is the most real thing I'd ever experienced in my life and God, it was addictive," he sighs and then winces. Running a hand over his face, he emits a low growl before he says, "It's why I lied and manipulated you. To trap you so I could keep you."