Her laugh is sharp and bitter. “Wanting me isn’t love, Jonathan. It’s obsession. And it’s suffocating.”
For a moment, her words steal the air from my lungs. But then the fury surges again, hot and blinding. “You talk about suffocation as if you’re some helpless victim,” I say, my voice trembling with rage. “But you’re the one pulling the strings, Annabel. You’re the one playing us against each other, turning us into pawns in your little game.”
Her jaw tightens, and I see the cracks forming in her carefully constructed façade. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I take another step closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I should kiss you again.”
“Don’t kiss me again, if you did I’d have to leave him and he wouldn’t survive.” Her eyes hang an extra beat with mine, as if she’s at war with herself. “The surest way to kill me would be to kiss me again.”
“So that’s it then? We forget last night ever happened? Go back to our dull lives?” I move closer, needing to be near her. “Always longing, in miserable agony, forever seeking the secret names that vibrate in each other’s skin.”
Her eyes flicker with something—fear, maybe—but she quickly masks it with defiance. “Yes. Go home to your wife.”
“No, I’m finally seeing things clearly,” I say, my tone cutting. “Youbeggedme for this, Annabel. Do you know why Calum got that commission at the New York Public Library? Do you think it was because of his talent? Because of his genius? No, Annabel. It was because of me.”
She blinks, confusion clouding her features. “What are you talking about?”
“You know my father is the library’s biggest patron,” I reveal, my lips curling into a bitter smile. “He’s the one who made it happen. He’s the reason Calum is standing on the precipice of greatness. And you’re the reason he’s about to fall.”
Her face pales, the weight of my words sinking in. “You wouldn’t?—”
“Wouldn’t I?” I cut her off, my voice low and menacing. “You’ve been lying to him, lying to me, playing us off each other like we’re nothing more than toys for your amusement. You’ve betrayed both of us. And now, you’re going to pay for it and you don’t like the consequences.”
“What do you want?” she yells into the wind.
“Leave him. Leave him and be with me, we’re meant to be and you know it.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t–Calum–he can’t live withoutme or his career. If I leave him it would break him. He would lose himself–”
“He’s weak. I thought if I got him that commission–if I did this for you–it would prove that I would move mountains for you–that you would finally leave him. His art is the only thing that matters to him, not you, not really. He’s not capable of loving you like I am, like I always have. He’s too consumed with his work, his art, his success. You know that, Annabel. From the start it’s been us–you and me against the world. Always.” She shakes her head, and my gaze hardens at her silent rebuff. “If you don’t leave him I’ll pull the mural project. I’ll tell my father to commission someone else.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her defiance returning. “You’re pathetic,” she spits. “You think you can control me, manipulate me, but you’re nothing, Jonathan. Nothing. You married my cousin to spite me, what makes you think I could ever respect you after that?”
Her words ignite something dark and primal within me. I step closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “If you don’t come clean, I’ll destroy him,” I say, my voice trembling with anger. “I’ll take everything from him—his career, his reputation, his future. And when he finds out the truth about you, do you think it will destroy him more than losing that commission?”
Her breath catches, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. But instead of backing down, she steps closer, her face inches from mine. “You’re a coward,” she hisses. “Hiding behind your father’s money and influence, pretending you’re so righteous and noble. But you’re just as broken as I am.”
The admission stuns me, but I recover quickly, my anger flaring once more. “You’re better off dead to both of us,” I say, my voice cold and detached. “At least then, you wouldn’t be able to ruin anyone else’s life.”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, I see genuine fear. Butthen her expression hardens, and she takes a step back, the morning wind whipping her hair around her face. “You’ll never have control over me, Jonathan,” she says, her voice steady. “Not now, not ever.”
With that, she turns and walks away, her figure disappearing down the block. I stand there watching her go, my anger simmering beneath the surface. She thinks she’s won, that she’s untouchable. But she has no idea what I’m capable of.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Calum
The cottage is cast in shadows, each corner of its grand but crumbling expanse steeped in an unsettling stillness. I wake, gasping, my chest heaving as though I’ve been submerged underwater. The dream is already fragmenting into jagged pieces, but the sensation it leaves is visceral—wet, choking terror like seaweed wrapped around my throat.
The storm has returned, battering the windows in waves, relentless as grief. I sit up, the sheets damp with sweat, and glance toward the doorway of the bedroom. It’s open, but only the faintest sliver of moonlight spills in from the hall. The rest of the cottage is shrouded in black.
Something isn’t right. I feel it like an itch beneath my skin.
The air is heavy, laced with a cloying scent I can’t place—burnt, metallic, and wrong. My pulse quickens as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet meeting the icy wooden floor. I wince but force myself to stand.
The hallway stretches before me like a dark throat, and though the storm howls outside, inside the cottage it’s deathlyquiet. My skin prickles as I step forward, the floorboards groaning beneath my weight.
Then I see it.
