“I’m sorry,” I say, and my voice trembles. I don’t have to act. The tearing sensation in my chest gets harder and harder to bear each time I return to him, begging for forgiveness, for sins I never committed.
“I fucking hate this,” he says, voice rough, verging on callous. “You make me so angry, and look?”
“I’m sorry I made you mad.” I drop my eyes to the floor, flexing my fingers to keep from balling them into a fist and smashing it into his face.
I’m here to grovel. To forgive him. Be his forgiveness to himself maybe. I wonder now if that is what I have always been. An outlet for his anger. Not just at my mother but at himself. I wonder too, if over the years, I became the place he goes when he needs to repent for all his sins. He ruins me, and I give him the gift of my forgiveness. I keep quiet. Say nothing. I cover up his marks. Keep a smile on my face.
Be his sweet Cora and absorb his violence with barely a whimper.
But this is the last time.
I’m going to ruin him before he destroys me.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me toward the kitchen. Rune flicks the light on as we enter and pulls out a chair, motioning for me to sit. Those eyes soften slightly as he scans me, then brushes his fingers over my hair. This is what makes it all so confusing. He almost looks like the loving man who raised me.
“You certainly know how to anger me,” he says. “Zane called the wedding off, and I saw everything I worked for, all my connections, falling apart.”
“What do I do?” I ask. “To change Zane’s mind?”
Please, say nothing.
“Nothing,” Rune says. He steps back, eyes falling to between my thighs. Fear sparks, making my heart race, but he pats my head, then gathers a mug and a box of tea from the cabinet. “I’m angry, but we have more important matters to tend to than Zane’s ego.”
Like the Snyder Group.
And that Breaker put Zane in the hospital.
“How is he?” I ask.
Rune fills the kettle and places it on the stovetop. “The surgery went well, but he needs time to heal.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling, but my glee evaporates when Rune turns, his eyes locking onto mine. Cold. Sharp. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in as he continues to stare at me in silence.
Rune pulls the chair from the table and it screeches through the room. He sits down and last night blasts through me, hitting me so hard that I have to take a breath.
When he rubs my back, I force myself not to flinch. Rune terrifies me in a way that no other person ever has. I may have been able to appease him by spreading my legs in the past, but last night proved that tactic won’t work anymore. Yet, there's an eerie stillness to him this morning, setting my teeth on edge. Like he poured all his rage into me last night, emptied himself of all his meanness.
His fingers weave into a curl and he pulls it tight, then lets it spring free. “Why did Zane call it off?” he asks. “You said you don’t know why, but I have a feeling that’s a lie.”
My throat closes up, and my brain empties. I blink, suddenly not knowing how to act. What would I do if I wasn’t lying? It’s hard to say, because I’m usually lying—yes Papa, I’m fine, yes papa I want to play, yes Papa, that feels good—whenever I’m around Rune. But none of that will work. Not with how he’s scrutinizing my every movement.
I would wonder why this is harder now, but I know the answer.
There’s too much at stake.
I lick my lips, unsealing them, and lie. “I don’t know.” My voice wavers slightly on the last word. Rune’s eyes narrow slightly. “Like I said before, I’m clueless. I didn’t know he called it off until you told me.”
My gaze drops to my lap, clasping my hands tightly together, willing them not to shake as fear runs jagged nails up my back. I’m too tense and we both know it. Rune grips my chin, forcing my focus back on him.
“You better not be lying,” he says, voice gentle, but I hear the threat. His hand drops and he settles back in his seat with a smile that makes my gut churn. When he meets my eyes again, there’s that slick look to them that always makes my insides crawl.
Heat. Lust. The knowledge that he can use me as he sees fit and I don’t protest. Not usually. Because when I do, it never ends well for me. And after he’s put me back in my place, he knows I’ll crawl to him, on hands and knees if need be, apologies and promises to obey spilling along with my tears, just to get back into his good graces.
“Come here, sweet girl,” Rune says, hand slipping into my hair.
He pulls me close and presses his lips to my forehead. That old combination of fragile hope that maybe he’ll change, tinged with disgust, rattles my heart. These moments always confused me before. But I know he’s truly incapable of love. He’s never loved me. And Delly is simply his shining gold star he has controlled as much as me, just differently.
But not anymore.
