“A piece of paper means nothing,” Jake snapped, his voice laced with disdain.
I let out a low laugh—dark, cold. “That’s cute. You really think it’s just a piece of paper?” I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, watching his expression tighten. “She’s wearing my fucking ring, asshole. And if that’s not good enough for you…” I tilted my head, eyes locked on his. “Why don’t you head upstairs and take a look at the bloodstained sheets?”
Jake flinched, just slightly.
“She’s mine. In every goddamn sense of the word. My wife in every way that matters. And there’s not a single thing you can do about it.”
His gaze cut to Kennedy—disgust, fury, helplessness twisting his features into something ugly.
“Keep looking at her like that,” I warned, my voice dropping low, lethal. “And I’ll fucking teach you how to hit someone who fights back.”
He didn’t say a word, but the tension between us snapped taut like a tripwire. I didn’t blink. Didn’t back down.
Because he needed to understand: I wasn’t bluffing.
And Kennedy wasn’t his to protect anymore.
She was mine.
“You should go,” she said softly—but her tone was steel. “And Jake? Don’t come back.”
God, I’d never been prouder of her. She wasn’t just mine. She was herself—fierce and fucking magnificent.
Jake looked between us one last time, that anger still burning beneath the surface, but it was hollow now. Powerless. He turned and left without another word.
The door clicked shut.
And just like that, the storm passed.
I let out a breath, slow and steady, before turning to Kennedy. She stared at the door like it might swing open again. Like the past could still force its way in.
I shut the door with more force than necessary and leaned back against it, jaw tight, lungs burning. The silence that followed felt like the moment right before a storm breaks—too still, too charged.
“Come here.”
She didn’t even pause.
Kennedy walked straight into my arms like she belonged there, like the only thing she knew for certain was me. I wrapped her up, pulling her in so tight I felt her heartbeat through my shirt. I needed this—needed her like oxygen. Everything else could burn.
“No one’s taking you from me,” I murmured against her hair. Her scent hit me—something soft, sweet, and all hers—and it twisted something deep in my chest. My hands splayed across her back, grounding me, holding her like I never wanted to let go.
She tipped her face up, eyes shining, fierce and open. “You really meant it out there.”
“Every word.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slow, deliberate. My thumb brushed her cheek. “This isn’t a game. It never was.”
Her breath caught, just a little. “I didn’t think you’d stand up to him like that.”
I let out a breath—sharp, unfiltered. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re not a fucking possession for your brother or Gary to trade and guard like you don’t get a say. You’re not theirs.” I cupped her jaw, voice going low. “You’re mine.”
She didn’t flinch. She leaned into it.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, her voice muffled against my chest.
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Like I’m actually free.” Her words broke something open in me. “For so long I was trying to be who everyone wanted. Perfect daughter. Perfect fiancée. But with you…” She looked up again. “It feels real. Like I can breathe.”
I nodded, tightening my arms around her. “Because it is. This is real. You don’t have to play a role anymore, Ken. Not with me.”
