Chapter 35
Kori
“Not hard enough, apparently,” I reply, holding up the tile between my fingers. “This was clever, I’ll give you that.”
His smile falters slightly. “You wouldn’t answer my calls. You wouldn’t talk to me. What choice did I have?”
“The choice to respect my decision,” I say, surprised by how calm I sound, even as I seethe inside. “We’re getting divorced, Mark. Following me to another country doesn’t change that.”
Mark’s expression darkens, the polite veneer dropping altogether. “You’re not thinking clearly. You never do when you’re upset.”
“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years,” I counter, taking a step back. “Now please leave before—”
“Before what?” he snarls, suddenly grabbing my arm with bruising force. “Before your new boyfriend shows up. Is that who you’ve been fucking? Some tattooed Irish thug?”
The viciousness in his voice shocks me. In five years of marriage, I’ve never seen this side of him, this raw, ugly, jealous side.
“Let go of me,” I demand, trying to wrench my arm free, but his grip only tightens.
“We’re going home,” he says through gritted teeth, beginning to pull me toward the door. “This little adventure of yours is over.”
I dig in my heels, but he’s stronger than I expected. “Mark, stop! You’re hurting me!”
“You’ve embarrassed me enough,” he hisses, dragging me down the front steps. “What do you think people are saying? My wife runs off to Ireland and shacks up with some criminal?”
I struggle harder, panic rising as he yanks me toward his rental car. “Kane isn’t a criminal! And I’m not your wife anymore. I told you, we’re getting divorced!”
“We’re not getting divorced,” he says with terrifying certainty, popping the locks on the car with his free hand. “You’re coming home, and we’re fixing this.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as he reaches for the passenger door. I need to do something, scream, fight, anything—but fear has frozen my vocal cords. This isn’t the Mark I knew. This man is a stranger with my husband’s face.
“Let her go.”
Kane’s voice cuts through my panic like a knife. He stands at the top of the stairs, his body coiled with tension, eyes cold with fury, while holding a manila envelope in his hand.
Mark’s grip tightens painfully on my arm. “This doesn’t concern you. This is between me and my wife.”
Kane descends the stairs slowly, deliberately, like a predator stalking its prey. “I won’t repeat it. Let. Her. Go.”
“Or what?” Mark challenges, though I can feel a slight tremor in his hand. “You’ll beat me up? Add assault to your record?”
“Kane doesn’t have a record,” I say, finding my voice at last. “And even if he did, I’d still choose him over you.”
Mark’s face contorts with rage. He shoves me roughly against the car, his free hand grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You think you know him? You’ve known him for what—two weeks? I’ve been with you for five years!”
“And you slept with my sister,” I remind him, anger finally overtaking fear. “You betrayed everything we had.”
“It was a mistake!” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “One fucking mistake! And you throw away our marriage for some—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence because Kane is suddenly there, moving faster than I thought possible. He pins Mark to the car with his forearm pressed against his throat.
“She asked you to let go,” Kane says quietly, his voice more frightening for its softness. “She asked you to leave. Both reasonable requests that you ignored.”
Mark tries to swing at Kane as his face turns bright red, but Kane sidesteps easily, twisting Mark’s arm behind his back in one fluid motion. Mark yelps, going up on his tiptoes to relieve the pressure.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Kane continues in that same soft, dangerous voice.
“You’re going to take these divorce papers— he smashed the manila envelope into Mark’s chest — You’re then going to get in your car and drive away.
You’re going to stop following Kori. You’re going to sign the divorce papers when you get home.
And you’re never going to contact her again unless it’s through a lawyer. ”
“Fuck you,” Mark spits, though the pain in his voice undermines the bravado. “She’s my wife.”
“No,” I say firmly, stepping away from the car. “I’m not. Not anymore.”
The front door of the mansion bangs open, and suddenly the drive is filled with people—Declan, Rory, Kat, even Mia, who moves with a fluid grace that reminds me she was once trained to kill.
“Problem?” Declan asks, coming to stand beside Kane.
“Mark was just leaving,” Kane replies, releasing his arm with a slight shove that sends him stumbling.
Mark rubs his wrist, looking from face to face as he realizes how outnumbered he is. His eyes come back to me, and for a moment, I see genuine hurt beneath the anger.
“This isn’t over,” he says, but the threat sounds hollow now.
“Yes, it is,” I tell him, feeling strangely calm. “We’re over, Mark. Go home.”
For a tense moment, I think he might try something else, but then his shoulders slump. Without another word, he gets into his rental car and starts the engine. As he pulls away, I feel a weight lift from my chest—like I’ve finally cut the last tie binding me to my old life.
Kane is at my side instantly, his hands gentle as they examine my arm where Mark grabbed me. Angry red marks are already darkening into bruises.
“We should put some ice on this,” he says, his voice carefully controlled. “Are you okay?”
I nod, though my legs feel unsteady. “I will be.”
“How did he find you?” Declan asks, ever practical.
I hold up the tracking tile, which I somehow managed to keep clutched in my hand throughout the confrontation. “Put it in my purse at Wavecrest.”
Mia plucks it from my fingers, studies it for a moment, then crushes it beneath her heel. “Amateur,” she mutters, and I remember with a jolt that she was once in the business of finding people who didn’t want to be seen.
“Come on,” Kane says, his arm around my waist, providing steady support. “Let’s get you inside.”
As we walk back toward the house, the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving me shaky and nauseated. I’ve never seen that side of Mark before—possessive, violent, unhinged. It makes me wonder how well I really knew him, how much of himself he kept hidden during our marriage.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur as we reach the steps. “I didn’t think he’d—”
“This isn’t your fault,” Kane interrupts firmly. “None of it.”
“But I brought this to your doorstep,” I insist. “Your family—”
“Has dealt with far worse than an angry ex-husband,” Rory assures me, holding the door open as we enter.
Inside, the others are waiting, Wren with a first-aid kit, Connor looking concerned, several staff members hovering uncertainly.
“Is he gone?” Wren asks, already reaching for my arm to examine the bruises.
“For now,” Declan answers grimly. “But I’m going to call Radley in the guard shack and tell him to make sure he leaves.”
As Wren applies cream to my bruises and Kane hovers protectively nearby, I’m struck by how quickly these people—these strangers who became something more—have rallied around me. There’s no judgment, no questions about what I did to provoke Mark, just immediate, unquestioning support.
“Thank you,” I say, looking around at all of them. “I don’t know what would have happened if—”
“Don’t think about that,” Kat advises, handing me a glass of water. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”
“Is anyone else suddenly craving those brownies?” Rory asks, breaking the tension. “Near-violence always makes me hungry.”
The absurdity of the statement startles a laugh out of me, and soon the others join in, the sound chasing away the last of the fear Mark left in his wake.
Later, when the excitement has died down and I’ve assured everyone a dozen times that I’m fine, Kane and I retreat to the privacy of his room. It’s larger than mine, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate grounds and a massive bed that dominates the space.
“You should rest,” he says, guiding me to sit on the edge of the mattress.
I catch his hand, tugging him down beside me. “I’m okay, really. Just... shaken.”
He studies my face, his eyes serious. “You didn’t tell me Mark could be violent.”
“Because he never was before,” I admit. “At least, not that I saw. He was controlling in other ways—always had to know where I was, who I was with—but he never...” I gesture to my bruised arm.
Kane’s jaw tightens. “If he comes back—”
“He won’t,” I say with more certainty than I feel. “Mark cares too much about his image. He won’t risk another scene, especially not after being confronted by all of you.”
“Still,” Kane says, “I don’t like that he found you so easily.”
I think about the tracking device, about Mark’s determination to get me back despite everything. “Me neither,” I admit. “But what can I do? I can’t hide forever.”
Kane is quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. “Come to Alberta,” he says finally. “Not just for a few days. Stay with me after, too. In Toronto or wherever. I don’t care if what we have going on is just a one-time thing. ... don’t go back to him.”
The offer takes my breath away. It’s too soon, too fast, too much—and yet, the thought of returning to the city alone, of rebuilding my life with Mark potentially lurking around every corner, fills me with dread.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I need to think about it.”
“Of course,” he agrees quickly. “No pressure. Just... an option.”
I lean against him, my head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder. “Thank you for being there today. For stopping him.”
“Always,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
As the sun begins to set outside his windows, casting long shadows across the room, I close my eyes and let myself imagine a future where I don’t have to run anymore—not from Mark, not from my failed marriage, not from myself—a future where, maybe, Kane is more than just a temporary safe harbor.
It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s possibly the most reckless thing I’ve ever considered.
But then, getting on that plane to Ireland was reckless, too, and look where it’s led me.
I lean back and look up at Kane. “I should call my sister. She needs to know what’s happening.”