Chapter: 9 Bound

Ryan and Ruth continued to debate James's possible intentions. Their voices mixed in the air, but to me, they were nothing more than distant echoes. The weight of the past was dragging me down more and more, and each recent revelation only added a layer of uncertainty I didn't know how to handle. The legend they mentioned, that pact... everything felt so far away and yet so close.

I knew I had to face that fear growing inside me, but I didn't know how. My mind floated in a limbo between reality and the unknown.

"Emma, are you listening to us?" Ryan asked, taking off his glasses and leaning in slightly.

Ruth shot me an expectant look. Although her tone was calm, there was a palpable tension in the air, as if they both were waiting for something more from me, something I couldn't give them.

"I'm going to find out what this is all about," I murmured, more to myself than to them, my voice dragged down by confusion. I stood up abruptly, feeling urgency take over my steps, and quickly headed toward my room.

"Emma, don't do something crazy," I heard Ryan's voice in the distance, but it no longer mattered. Nothing they said could stop me now.

My hands trembled as I desperately searched for the intense red book I had found earlier. I knew its content was crucial. I hurriedly tucked it into my bag, along with the copies of the agreements signed by James. My breathing quickened, as if my body were preparing to face an imminent storm.

"Emma, please..." Ruth appeared at the door, blocking my way. Her voice was soft, filled with concern, and fear shone in her eyes.

"Ruth..." I warned her, my jaw clenched. My hardened face reflected the determination I had taken. I knew I couldn't let anyone stop me.

She slowly backed away, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. Her gaze was sad, but she said nothing more. Ryan, on the other hand, watched me silently from the hallway, his eyes reflecting a mix of worry and resignation.

I left the house with my heart pounding. The sound of the car door closing echoed in my ears like a sentence. The engine roared as I started the vehicle, and as I drove toward the mansion, my thoughts intertwined in a whirlwind of chaos: the book, James, my grandmother, the house... everything spun in my mind, blurring the line between the real and the impossible.

I felt betrayed, but I didn't know if that pain was due to the people around me or the truth that was slowly beginning to unveil itself before me.

Upon arriving at the mansion, my former home, I stopped in front of the large wooden doors. My chest burned as if the fire of rage consumed me from within. I rang the doorbell repeatedly, with an impatience bordering on loss of control.

Finally, a middle-aged woman opened the door. Her expression was stern, almost irritated.

"Where is James?" I demanded, my voice laden with a contained fury that needed no courtesy.

"I'm sorry, miss, but the sir does not see anyone at this hour," she replied coldly, attempting to close the door.

But I was quicker. I slipped under her arm and entered the house before she could stop me.

"Miss, I'll call security!" she shouted, desperate, but her warning stopped when a deep voice resonated from the living room.

"Let her through," James said, his unmistakable tone.

The woman, resigned, stepped back, allowing me to move toward the living room. The place looked the same, but everything felt different. There was a palpable tension in the air, a heavy energy that pressed against my chest.

James stood with his back to me, looking out the window. His figure, which once seemed imposing, now appeared more fragile, more worn. He wore a disheveled white shirt, and his long dark hair fell over his shoulders in a disarray that was unusual for him.

When he slowly turned to look at me, he held a glass in his hand, and his gaze, though still cold, seemed more distant, as if a part of him was no longer here.

"Such manners, Emma," he said with his usual arrogance, though something in his tone revealed a deep exhaustion.

I couldn't hold back. I quickly approached and threw the scarlet book onto the coffee table, the sound of impact resonating in the room.

"What do you want from me?" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage and frustration. I felt I was on the edge of an abyss, and James was the key to understanding everything.

James looked at the book, but he didn't react immediately. He took a sip from his glass and then set it down on the table with a slow movement, as if every gesture cost him an energy he no longer had.

"I don't want any more lies or intrigues. What are you? Why are you chasing me? Are you a stalker? Are you a mobster? Are you the devil himself coming for my soul?" The words poured out of my mouth in an uncontrollable torrent.

"Enough!" James shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

The silence that followed was overwhelming. His shout made me step back, and for a moment, I felt a real fear. It wasn't the fear of the unknown, but the fear of the truth that was about to be revealed.

"I'm not a mobster, nor a stalker, and I don't want your soul," he replied, his voice now lower, almost resigned. His black eyes bore into mine, and for the first time, I saw something beyond arrogance: sadness.

The atmosphere became unbearable; the tension between us was palpable.

"You found your grandmother's book," he continued. "You know what she did. The pact... she gave up more than she should have. And now you bear the burden. The rest, I don't know"

His confession hit me hard. I felt the ground beneath my feet crumble.

"And you?" I asked, barely above a whisper. "What role do you play in all this?"

James sighed, his gaze lost in the past.

"I'm tied to you, Emma, just as you are to me. But you're not ready to understand that yet."

His words felt like a sentence. The mystery surrounding James remained intact, but now I knew this was just the beginning of something much darker.

I stood up, unable to bear any more. The weight of everything I had heard crushed me. I walked toward the door, my shoulders slumped from emotional exhaustion.

"Wait," his voice stopped me.

I turned slowly. James extended the book toward me, his eyes cold, but there was a storm brewing inside his gaze.

"Take the book. Just be careful."

I nodded, took the book, and left. Outside, the night air enveloped me, but I didn't feel relief.