Chapter 109 The Intervention
The air in the den was thick, the kind of heavy silence that usually preceded one of Arthur’s lectures, but Arthur wasn't here. Jace was the one sitting behind our stepfather’s desk, his jaw set so tight I could see the muscle pulsing. Grant was leaning against the bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest, and Owen—my favorite brother, the one who usually took my side—was slumped in the armchair, looking at me like I’d just set his world on fire.
"Sit down, El," Jace said. It wasn't a command, but there was a weariness in it that made my heart ache.
"I’m fine standing," I snapped. My skin felt too tight for my body.
"We’re trying to understand," Grant said, his voice jagged. "Of all the people in this world, Ellie. Rhys? You know what he is to this family. You know what he is to Owen. He was supposed to be the one guy we never had to worry about."
"He’s the man I love," I said, though my voice sounded small in the quiet room.
Owen finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "He was my best friend, El. Since we were kids. He was the one person I trusted more than anyone to have your back. To watch over you. Not to... to do this."
"He is watching over me," I countered, the heat finally starting to rise in my chest.
"He’s confusing the two!" Jace leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. "Think about where we were, Ellie. Think about what we went through. We almost lost you. When Dale came into this house with that knife... we swore no one would ever get close enough to hurt you again. We let Rhys into this inner circle because we thought he was a shield. Turns out he was just waiting for an opening."
The mention of Dale made the old scar on my left side throb, a ghost of the cold steel that had torn through me when I was thirteen.
"You want to bring up that night?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave. I felt a cold, hard anger crystallize inside me. "You want to talk about how 'protective' you all are?"
"We’ve spent every day since then making sure you’re safe," Grant growled, stepping toward me. "Because we remember the blood, El. We remember the kitchen floor."
"No," I said, stepping toward the desk, eyes fixed on Jace. "You’ve spent every day since then hovering and suffocating me. You talk about that night like you were the only ones who felt it. But where were you, Jace? You were at the store. Where were you, Grant? You were in the car. You all walked in and saw the aftermath."
I turned to Owen. "And you, Owen. You’re his best friend. You know him better than anyone. So how can you sit there and act like he’s a predator? When Dale had me pinned against the counter, when I felt that blade go in—it wasn't any of you who tackled him. It was Rhys."
The room went silent, the memory of my scream hanging in the air.
"As I was bleeding out," I continued, my voice steady and freezing, "none of you were the ones holding me. I didn't hear your voices. I heard his. He was the one whispering, 'Stay with me. Baby, stay with me.' He saved my life while you guys were still processing what was happening."
Owen’s face crumpled. "That’s why it hurts, Ellie. Because he’s the one who knows how much we love you. He knows how much we need you to be okay. For him to do this behind our backs... it’s like he’s taking the trust we gave him and using it against us."
"He’s not using anything," I said, my voice finally breaking. "He loves me. And I love him."
Jace stood up and walked around the desk. He didn't look angry anymore; he just looked scared. He reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched back. "Ellie, we aren't going anywhere. We’re your brothers. We love you more than anything. But we can't just sit back and watch you let him do this. He’s crossed a line he can't uncross."
"He didn't cross a line, Jace. He just saw a person instead of a project," I said, the words spilling out before I could check them. "For ten years, you three have treated me like a crime scene that needs to be cordoned off. You check my phone logs, you vet my friends, and you grill every man who so much as looks my way like he’s the one who held the knife. You didn't give Rhys an opening. He was the only one who actually walked through the walls you built."
Grant let out a harsh, dry laugh, his fingers digging into the spines of the books behind him. "Is that what he told you? That we’re the villains because we don’t want you to bleed again? He played the long game, Ellie. He played the 'understanding friend' card while he sat at our table and drank our beer. He lied to us every time he looked us in the eye."
"And what did you expect him to do?" I shot back, stepping into Grant’s space. "Walk in here and tell you he was falling for me so you could banish him? You would have cut him out of Owen’s life in a heartbeat. You don’t want me to have a life, you want me to have a biography that ends on a kitchen floor so you can keep feeling like heroes for 'protecting' the remains."
Owen flinched as if I’d slapped him. "That’s not fair, El. We just... we can’t lose you again. And he knew that. He was the one we talked to when we were terrified for you."
"Then you should have listened to what he was saying," I whispered. "Because while you were busy guarding the door, he was the only one inside the room with me."
There was a tense silent pause as we all stared at each other.
"I’m not choosing between you and him. I’m choosing me. And for the first time in my life, I’m choosing what makes me feel safe," I said, backing toward the door.
"Ellie, wait—" Owen started to get up, his hand reaching for me, but I was already out the door.
I didn't want to see the pain in his eyes, because I knew if I stayed, they’d wrap me in that protective layer of theirs until I couldn't breathe. I made it to the stairs, my vision starting to swim, and I didn't stop until I reached my room.