Her watch showed 3:27 PM as she walked up the block. The air was bitter and cutting, grey skies making the winds seems even more brutal. She tied her scarf a little tighter as she walked, shoving her hands deep in her coat pockets. The cold front had come on suddenly, a far cry from the mild autumn they’d been experiencing. Leaves crunched under her boots as she opened the gate, started for the door.
The house was warm, welcoming her home as she bolted the door behind her. Eilwen hung her coat in the closet, tossing her scarf on the rack as she stepped out of her boots. Duke would be home by four, and she hadn’t even begun to plan for dinner. She turned back toward the kitchen--
Slam. Suddenly, someone was upon her, slamming her back against the wall with a hand tight around her throat. When the black dots in her vision cleared, she said him. Her father’s bright blue eyes were unmistakable, even in the dim light of the foyer.
“You thought I wouldn’t figure out what you were up to, Ellie?” he spat, his face close to hers as his grip on her neck tightened. She clawed at his hand but it did nothing to stop him, each gasp of air she managed feeling smaller and smaller.
She balled her hands in tight fists, bringing them down against his chest as hard as she could manage. She’d always fought back, as long as she could remember. She’d been very young when she realized that fighting back made her father more angry, but that the punishment never lasted as long. It was trade off she had to make.
He almost snarled at her, his teeth bared as he got in her face. “You thought you’d get away with this?”
There was one final burst of energy in her, she knew. She kneed him hard in the chest, and as he tried to recover, she kicked him back, gasping as the grip on her throat released and she was allowed air again. Eilwen scrambled trying to put as much distance between herself and her father as possible.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed, furious at herself for how fragile she sounded. “I wasn’t trying to get away with anything.”
“You set me up,” he said, straightening. Eilwen drew her wand, but Evan disarmed her an instant later. He walked toward her as she spoke, but she stood her ground. “You still haven’t learned have you? All of this? Your imagined freedom? I control every bit of it.”
Eilwen tried to remove the fear from her face, staring him down. But Evan was stronger than she was, and it would never be enough. He gripped her roughly by the wrist, snatching her towards him. “I think it’s time you get a little reminder.”
Pushing open the door, Duke was struck almost immediately by how quiet it was. Even when she lived in Ireland, Eilwen had always turned on the radio when she got home, dancing around the kitchen as she cooked. Many times he’d warned her that the noise could distract her from the sounds of potential threats or intruders, but the stubborn woman never listened.
He stepped quietly into the house, noticing immediately that her scarf hung on the rack, her boots still resting near the door. As he rounded the corner, he froze.
Evan stood over Eilwen, a bloodied mess on the floor, backed against the wall in the corner of the living room. The man looked up at the sound, adjusting his coat as he pulled it on his shoulders. He looked down at his daughter, then up at Duke. The steps were loud in the quiet house as he walked towards the boy. Though Duke had several inches on Evan, he carried himself with the confidence of a man twice his size.
“Deucalion,” he nodded as he stepped past his son-in-law. He clasped the boy firm on the shoulder. “You know that well kept secrets are what keeps a family intact, now, don’t you?"
“This isn’t a secret, Evan; this is a crime.”
Evan shrugged. “Perspective.”
Duke remained frozen where he stood, watching the front door close in absolute disbelief. He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a voice, her voice.
“Duke?” she said, and her voice was strained. Eilwen looked up and when she faced him he almost had to look away. Her face, neck, and shoulders were covered in bruises, bright blood streaming from a gash in her forehead. Even speaking hurt, her throat sore and raw.
“We have to go to the hospital,” he said, moving towards her.
“No,” she shook her head. She tried to hold up her hand, hissing at the pain in her collarbone. “I need you to go get Aya.”
“You don’t need Ayanna, Eilwen,” Duke said, his brow creasing. “You need a doctor.”
“He’ll find us again,” she said, her voice sounding broken and frail. “Don’t you get that?” There was a tense silence then, Duke running his hand through his hair as he considered her words. She was right, of course she was. Evan Sr. would stop at nothing if they went against his word. This could only be the beginning.
“But.. the baby--”
“Let me see Aya first,” she said, wincing. “We’ll figure something else out if she can’t help.”
He watched her for a long moment before he cursed, disapparating.
Three raps on the door and it opened. Duke shoved past the elf, ignoring the protests as he darted towards the garden. “Ayanna,” he said, his face still plainly showing his shock. “You have to come back with me; it’s Eilwen.”
