Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 121.

Elaine’s POV

(Back to present)

I don’t wait for him to dismiss me, the moment he says he’ll deal with Aaron later, something in me tightens and then goes completely still, I just nod once like I accept it, then I walk away before my face gives me away.

I shut the bedroom door behind me and lean against it for a second. Then I peel my shirt off first, it sticks to my skin and I wince as I lift it over my head. There’s a bruise forming across my collarbone, already turning that ugly purple-yellow shade.m, I touch it lightly and hiss.

I should’ve stayed home and I shouldn’t have dragged Aaron into it.

I shouldn’t...

I step into the bathroom and turn the shower on before the spiral can get worse. The water runs hot, almost scalding. I stand under it without moving, letting it hit the top of my head and run down my face, my neck, my back.

At first it hurts, my scraped palms sting even my knee burns when the heat touches it. There’s a cut along my hip I hadn’t even noticed until now.

I don’t step out though. I let it hurt, It feels deserving.

Mud slides down the drain in thin brown ribbons, blood thins and disappears. The water at my feet turns clear again, like nothing happened.

I press my forehead against the tile, the crash replayin behind my eyes, my chest tightening again.

I turn the water hotter, steam fills the room until I can barely see my own reflection in the glass. I like that, I don’t want to look at myself right now.

I stay there too long, long enough that my skin turns pink and my fingertips wrinkle, long

enough that the adrenaline finally drains out of me and leaves nothing but exhaustion in its place.

When I finally turn the water off, the silence feels heavier than before. I wrap a towel around myself and step out, wiping the mirror with my palm.

My reflection stares back at me. My eyes eyes are red, my collarbone is bruised and there’s a faint cut near my temple. I look like someone who almost died.

When I leave the bathroom to my closet, I dress slowly I dress slowly then I hesitate in front of the closet. My clothes are on my side but my hand drifts to his, I don’t think about it too hard I just pull one of his shirts off the hanger. It’s a black, soft cotton shirt and It smells like him..... clean, and something woodsy.

I slip it on, it hangs off me, swallowing my hands and brushing mid-thigh.

I pause.

When did this start feeling normal? When did wearing his clothes stop feeling invasive and start feeling... grounding?

I lift the collar to my nose without meaning to, it smells like him so much like him and my shoulders drop just a little.

Well that’s new.

I climb into bed without drying my hair properly, it spreads damp across the pillow. The room is dark except for the faint light coming in from the city beyond the windows.

I stare at the ceiling for minutes but sleep doesn’t come.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the bridge and the guardrail.

And underneath all of it is the question I didn’t get to ask. What really happened up there?Aaron’s story had gaps, small ones but enough to not make complete sense

He’s loyal, I know that but he’s loyal to Zane first. Not me.

I roll onto my side and pull the blanket up higher. I don’t know how long I lie there but T at some point, exhaustion must win and sleep carried me away because the next thing I know, I feel the mattress dip.

My body reacts before my mind does. I tense instantly,my breath catching in my throat.

The scent hits me a second later.

Him.

I turn my head and Zane is beside me, already half-lying back, one arm behind his head. He’s still in his dark clothes, no tie and up buttons undone.

"You’re awake," he murmurs.

"I was sleeping, you woke me up ."

"Go back to it." His voice low.

I don’t turn away.

"Did you punish him?"

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

There’s a pause.

His eyes shift to mine in the dark.

"That’s not something you need to concern yourself with."

My jaw tightens.

"He risked his life for me."

"He’s paid to."

"That doesn’t mean..."

"It means exactly that."

I push myself up on one elbow. "You said you’d deal with him."

"And I did."

"How?"

His expression hardens.

"There are questions you don’t ask," he says evenly. "Especially not about internal matters."

"I’m not asking about your accounts," I snap. "I’m asking about a person."

"A person who failed to do his job."

"He didn’t fail."

"You were exposed, you almost died."

"I chose to leave the house,"

"And he allowed it."

"He couldn’t physically chain me to a chair."

"He could have tried harder."

I stare at him.

"That’s not fair."

"Fair doesn’t keep people alive."

I sit up fully now, the blanket sliding down my lap.

"You can’t just hurt people because you need to make a point."

His eyes darken at that.

"You think that’s what this is?"

"What else would it be?"

He pushes himself up too, sitting across from me now.

"In my world," he says quietly, "mistakes cost lives."

"He didn’t make a mistake."

"You left the estate unprotected ."

"I didn’t leave unprotected, he was my protection."

"And how did that go." Then adds after a bit. " Did he even try to stop you."

"Yes."

"And he couldn’t."

"Because I would’ve found another way."

"That’s not the point."

I let out a frustrated breath.

"He’s loyal to you," I say. "He would never betray you."

"Loyalty isn’t the same as competence."

"That’s harsh."

"It’s just the reality."

Silence stretches between us as I study his face in the low light.

"What did you do?" I ask again, softer this time.