His hand tightened slightly on the wheel.
I didn’t stop.
“Is she coming for another dinner?” I pressed, my voice slipping despite me. “Another night where I’m expected to serve her like I’m nothing?”
“Or has she finally lost the baby she claimed I endangered?” I added, my voice tightening.
“Or is there a new accusation waiting for me this time?”
The last question landed harder than the rest.
My chest tightened.
Pain twisted there—familiar, sharp, and unwelcome.
Violet.
Always Violet.
“Wait until I’m finished before you speak.”
His voice dropped.
The air inside the truck shifted instantly.
“Is that clear?”
I froze.
The weight of his tone pressed against my chest, suffocating any response that might have come.
I turned my face away.
Said nothing.
And that was apparently the wrong answer.
The truck jerked violently.
Without warning.
Tires screeched against the road as he yanked the wheel sharply to the right, the massive vehicle fishtailing onto the shoulder.
Gravel sprayed beneath us, the engine growling in protest as we came to a sudden, harsh stop.
My body lurched forward against the seatbelt.
Pain shot through my knees instantly, sharp and immediate, tearing a gasp from my throat before I could stop it.
Before I could even process what had happened—
His hand moved.
Fast.
His fingers clamped around my chin, hard enough to make my breath hitch as he yanked my face toward him.
The movement was brutal.
