“He told me what he planned,” she whispers. “After I said my vows… he said he would cut out my tongue so I could only be… receptive.”
Her breath stutters violently.
“He thinks I’m a vessel,” she says. “For him. For his sons. He believes it’s destiny.”
Her voice cracks completely now.
“He’s still out there, Trey.”
The room changes temperature.
I feel it happen.
“He’s going to come for me again.”
Something in me goes very still.
My hands frame her face before I even register moving.
Gentle.
But firm enough that she has to look at me.
“Listen to me,” I say, low and absolute. “He won’t touch you.”
Her breath trembles.
“He won’t come near you,” I continue. “He won’t breathe the same air as you without me knowing.”
Her eyes flicker.
Fear.
But underneath it—
Relief.
Because she believes me.
Even if she shouldn’t have to.
“I’ll deal with him,” I say quietly. “Not quickly. Not cleanly.”
My voice drops lower.
“I’m going to take everything from him until there’s nothing left. And then I’m going to make sure he understands exactly why.”
She exhales shakily.
And I pull her back into me.
“You are not a vessel,” I murmur into her hair. “You are my wife. You are mine. I will never let anyone take you from me again.”
Her arms tighten around me instantly.
Like she’s been holding that breath for days. Weeks.
A knock sounds at the door.
