“You arenot allowedto fight anyone, protect anyone, or go into the ring for like…forever.”
“That right, lass?” he asks with a smirk. “You’re the boss of me now?”
“I’m your wife.”
My hands move to his chest, careful around the worst of it. He flinches when I touch his ribs.
“Bruised or broken?”
“Bruised, probably.”
“We should get you checked out.”
“Later.” He leans on me and lets me keep washing.
When I'm done, he takes the soap from my hands. “My turn.”
His touch is gentler, reverent almost, like he's afraid I'll shatter. I feel like maybe I will.
When we're both clean, or as clean as we're getting, I turn off the water. We dry in silence, but he cups my jaw, rubbing his thumb over my lips. Then he leans down and presses his mouth to mine.
“My love, it's going to be alright. It's all going to be alright. No more tribute. No more debts. No more blackmail.”
“Aye. But my parents…”
He sighs. “I don’t suspect your mother was in on this. Your father was. You know the rules.”
I nod. I do.
“Exile or death. I’ll make sure it’s the first option. I’d bet anything your father’s selfish and desperate, not dangerous.” He kisses my cheek. “He doesn’t have an heir to his throne, so his only option would be a power move, like this.”
“Please, Cavin. Exile,” I whisper. “My father and I have never been close, but I can’t imagine what—what it would do to Bridget.”
“You have my word, love.”
He frowns when he gets a text. He turns his phone to show me. “It’s Kyla.”
Kyla
You told me to find out who was posting to the St. Albert’s account. Bronwyn and I have been on it. And it’s strange, Cav, but we discovered who. It’s the photographer from the wedding, brother. Him, and Donovan
He shakes his head. “Ofcourse.God. The photographer? The one my cousin Donovan justhappenedto defend for no reason.”
“Oh god.”
Cavin shakes his head. “He was there the night my car was bombed, there the day Bronwyn was taken, there the day she came back, and we had no security feed.” He sighs. “You were right. I didn’t want to believe you, but you were right.”
I kiss his cheek. “Shh. Put it down now. It’s over.”
The pain medication is in his nightstand. I grab water from the bathroom and shake out pills for both of us.
“Here.”
We swallow them, then collapse back onto the bed. The sheets are ruined with blood, but neither of us cares.
He pulls me against his chest, careful of our injuries, and his arm comes around me. I rest my head on his chest, on the one spot that doesn't seem to hurt.
“Cavin.”
