Page 115 of Vow to Claim You

“I saw your face, Ayanna.”

Her gaze drops momentarily, and I exhale, trying to release this tension in me along with it.

“I saw your face when I walked in. You weren’t handling anything. You were waiting to die.”

Her jaw tightens as she swallows. “That’s not⁠—”

“Don’t.” I take a step toward her. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this.”

She doesn’t back away. That’s the thing about her. That’s the thing that drives me fucking insane. Any other woman would retreat. Would fold. Would give me the space my anger demands.

Not her.

She holds her ground. Lifts her chin higher. Meets my eyes with that dark, burning gaze that has been living rent-free in my skull since the day I saw her walk down that aisle.

“I made a mistake,” she says. “I know that. But I don’t answer to you⁠—”

“You do.”

“Excuse me?” Her tone goes higher.

“You’re my wife.” The word comes out rough. Raw. “In this world, that means something. It means you don’t walk into danger alone. It means you don’t turn off your phone and disappear. It means⁠—”

“It means I’m your property?” She cuts me off. “Something to track and control? To lock away in a cage?”

Track. She knows.

“I saw on the screen in the car.” Her voice is cold now. Controlled. The way mine usually is. “You put a tracker on me. Without asking. Without telling me. Like I’m your prisoner.”

Every muscle in me tightens, because that’s exactly what I swore I’d never make her feel.

Trapped.

I promised myself I would never become the kind of man Vidar had been to Angelique. Never mistake possession for protection. Never feel my wife feel caged.

But ownership was never the point.

I never wanted a cage. I wanted a way back to her if the world ever took her from me.

And tonight, it did. Because of that tracker, I found her before I had to bury her.

If I had to choose again, I’d install it twice.

“You are not my prisoner.”

“Then what am I?” She steps toward me, closing the last of the distance. “A possession? Because that’s what it feels like, Aric. That’s what this whole marriage feels like.”

“The tracker”—I make myself sound calmer than I am—“was placed after Luca’s attempt on my life. After his men aimed at you. For your protection⁠—”

“You didn’t even tell me about it. You decided for me. Just like you decide everything. What I’m allowed to know, what⁠—”

“If you had told me about Farida⁠—”

“You would have stopped me from going!”

“Yes!”

The word echoes through the room. Loud. Uncontrolled. I don’t raise my voice. Ever. And I just did.