The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman) novel Chapter 929

Mr. Walker had been married to Autumn for more than twenty years, but tonight was the first time he’d ever seen his wife dig her heels in like this.

Earlier, he’d dropped Daria off at her place. When she hopped out of the car, she waved and called, “Bye, Grandpa!” The word made his heart feel unexpectedly light. If only he really had a granddaughter like her—how wonderful would that be?

He lit up a cigar and sat quietly for a while, lost in thought. Finally, he said, “I’ll find time to meet with Joseph and talk things through.”

When Mr. Walker finally agreed, Autumn’s whole face lit up. “Honey, I’ll leave this to you.”

In over two decades together, Mr. Walker could count on one hand the times he’d seen Autumn act this sweet. In his mind, she was gentle and kind, but always a little stiff—unfailingly strong. They’d never even had a real fight. They were the couple everyone else pointed to as the gold standard.

But tonight, she kept calling him “honey,” and he couldn’t help but be charmed. Even though her story had gaps big enough to drive a truck through, he let it go. He didn’t ask what kind of classmate Devin had really been, or what exactly went on between her and Ben, or why she’d been so secretive about collecting Julie’s body.

Some things, he figured, were best left alone.

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Up on the hillside, in one of those big, gleaming houses where all the lights seemed to burn late into the night, Rowan hung upside down from a heavy beam. His wounds had split open again, fresh blood soaking through and dripping onto the polished floor. With all the blood rushing to his head, his face was beet red, veins standing out at his temples and neck.

Asher was sprawled on a leather sofa, a cup of tea in hand, flanked by two bodyguards. Two more stood by Rowan, whips in hand, waiting for Asher’s word.

Asher took a lazy sip, eyeing Rowan coldly. “So, tell me—why’d you turn on me?”

Rowan just stared at him, silent and stubborn as ever.

Asher lost his patience. He tossed the rest of his tea in Rowan’s face. The hot liquid made Rowan wince, stinging his wounds and making him gasp. Still, he didn’t say a word. Not a single plea.

“Don’t forget who put you where you are,” Asher snapped, stalking over. “We’re supposed to be brothers. Brothers, Rowan! How could you stab me in the back?”

The two guards hesitated—Rowan already looked half dead. But Asher’s glare was enough.

“Yes, sir,” they muttered, and raised their whips.

The lashes landed hard, tearing through Rowan’s shirt, reopening old wounds. Blood quickly soaked his clothes, turning his white shirt scarlet. Still, Rowan clenched his jaw and refused to give up the chip.

Asher was livid. “Hand it over, Rowan! Are you trying to die?”

Rowan coughed up blood, his face ghostly pale, but he kept silent.

Asher grabbed his collar, shouting, “You gave it to Anastasia, didn’t you? You’d really betray your brother for her?”

Just then, one of Asher’s men came running in, breathless. “Boss—Herman’s here.”