Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 245

Music Recommendation: Jar of hearts by Christina Perri.

........

The first thing Amara heard was the door creak.

Her head jerked up instantly, breath hitching. For a moment, one fragile, impossible moment, she thought it could be Celeste. Or Dominic. Maybe even Rodger. Someone who came for her.

However, when the door opened, and light slipped in, she saw the outline of a woman she recognized too well.

Theresa.

Her stomach sank. Her pulse started to roar in her ears. This couldn’t be possible. What the hell?

Theresa shut the door quietly behind her, as though the silence belonged to her. She didn’t speak at first.

She just stood there, studying Amara. Her heels clicked softly as she began to walk closer, with slow, deliberate steps, and each one measured like she was approaching a prey she wanted to savor.

"You’re quieter than I thought you’d be," she said finally. Her voice was calm and detached. "I was hoping for some noise."

Amara’s glare burned through the gag. Her wrists twitched against the rope stubbornly.

Theresa tilted her head, her eyes sweeping across Amara’s face with a faint, mocking smile. "Still got that look. That fearless little spark. You really don’t know when to quit, do you?"

She crouched low, until their eyes were level. "Do you even understand what you did?" she murmured. "You should’ve left her. You should’ve walked away the moment she stepped into that family, and you knew the whole truth. But no, you stayed. You always stay. Like a stubborn shadow that doesn’t know its place."

Her words were soft, not loud. That was what made them sting. She wasn’t shouting, she was dissecting, and it slapped Amara.

"You think she’d do the same for you?" Theresa whispered. "Celeste. She’s probably screaming her husband’s name right now, not yours."

Theresa straightened up and crossed to the small table near the wall. Her hand reached for the knife lying there. The metal caught the light, and Amara’s pulse quickened. She tried to keep her breathing even, tried to stay composed, but her heart betrayed her.

Theresa’s steps were unhurried as she came back.

Amara didn’t look away. Not even when the knife grazed her arm in a cold, and taunting. Apparently, Theresa might cut her.

Her heart beat quickened. She didn’t want that.

Theresa leaned in close enough for Amara to smell the faint sweetness of her perfume. "You made her stronger," she whispered. "And that’s the problem. Strong women make the world ugly."

The blade pressed deeper into Amara’s flesh. Amara bit down on the gag so hard she tasted blood. She didn’t make a sound. Her body trembled, but her eyes stayed locked on Theresa’s.

That silence, and refusal to break was what finally cracked Theresa’s composure.

"Still pretending you’re not scared?" she snapped, grabbing Amara by the jaw. "Say something. Cry, beg. Do something human."

Amara’s answer was in her eyes. They remained cold, and furious defiance. She felt the pain, but refused to show it.

And then the door opened again.

Theresa froze.

Footsteps entered the room. Amara’s heart stopped.

Elias. She blinked in hope.

The light from the hallway brushed across his face, catching the sharp edge of his jaw, and the exhaustion in his eyes. For a heartbeat, everything inside her heart stopped hurting.

He came.

He found her.

Her throat tightened, and her breath turned quick and shaky through the gag. She wanted to call out his name, to tell him she knew he’d come for her.

But then, he looked at her. And everything inside her broke before he even spoke.

His expression wasn’t relief. It wasn’t fear. It was restraint. Cold, and calculated restraint. He was standing on the edge of a decision he didn’t want to make.

Theresa’s smirk returned, smug and poisonous. "You’re late," she said.

Elias didn’t respond. His gaze stayed on Amara. His jaw flexed once.

"Did she give you trouble?" he asked finally. His tone was quiet. It didn’t match the faint tremor in his hands.

Theresa laughed under her breath. "Not much. She’s still trying to act brave."

Elias walked closer until he stood just in front of Amara. Her breath hitched again, fear and longing tangling inside her chest. She searched his face for something, anything, that said this was an act.

His eyes softened, just for a second. A single second. Enough to burn her alive with hope.

Then he turned away and said, "Do it again."

Theresa blinked. "What?"

He didn’t raise his voice. "Do it again."

Theresa’s grin widened, viciously. She moved the knife back toward Amara’s skin.

Amara’s chest rose and fell sharply. Her heart shattered in silence.

Elias’s back was to her now, with his hands in his pockets, and his head lowered like he couldn’t bear to look. But he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even speak.

He just stood there, pretending he didn’t care, or this didn’t tear him apart.

Theresa drew another thin line of red across Amara’s arm. Amara’s entire body tensed, but she didn’t cry out. The only sound was the faint hiss of her breath through the gag and the quiet clatter of metal against her skin.

Elias turned his head slightly, just enough to catch her reflection in the dark window ahead. His eyes lingered for a heartbeat long.

Then he spoke, softly. "That’s enough."

Theresa scoffed. "You said—"

"I said that’s enough." His tone was cold now.

Theresa’s lips pressed together, but she obeyed.

Elias walked back toward Amara slowly. She flinched when his shadow fell over her again. Her mind was still trying to piece together the man she thought she knew.

He reached out, as if to touch her face, but stopped halfway. His hand hovered in the air, trembling faintly.

Her eyes filled now, glassy and unblinking, searching him for truth.

He dropped his hand.

"Stay alive," he murmured. He said it so quietly it almost didn’t sound.

Then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Amara’s tears finally slipped silently down her face. Her heart broke, soundlessly, as he walked away.

She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to beg him to tell her this wasn’t real. But her voice was trapped behind the gag, and her tears were the only things that spoke for her.