Chapter 34
Elowen
“It’s because you feel guilt. How guilty do you think you are for believing, mistakenly, that Hunter was Salvario?” Amber asks when I tell her I can’t get close to Salvario, and everything else.
“A lot. If I could, I’d wipe every memory of him clean.”
She nods. “You have to work through this guilt.”
“But I also feel guilty when Salvario comes close to me, because of Hunter. I feel like I’m betraying him.”
She tilts her head slightly, a faint frown forming between her brows.
“Everything between Hunter and me started because I believed he was Salvario.” I lick my dry lips. “Subconsciously, I still believe he is Salvario. And because of that, I keep having these thoughts, that Salvario isn’t the way he used to be, and Hunter is exactly that.”
She falls into deep thought. “That’s deeply tangled.” She shakes her head slowly. “I need time to think this over. We can’t rush to a conclusion, it could worsen your condition.”
I rise from the couch. “It’s fine. Take your time, and let me know when you want me to come back.”
She nods, rising. She walks me outside the clinic. I give her a goodbye hug and head to my car.
Before I reach it, a creeping sensation crawls up my spine—someone is watching me.
I turn, but no one is there. The area around Amber’s clinic is nicely developed.
There are many buildings with new offices and various clinics, including two vet clinics.
Plenty of people are out and about. In a crowd like this, it’s hard to tell if someone was actually watching me, and I can’t be sure it wasn’t just my mind playing tricks.
Remi approaches. “What’s wrong, ma’am?” They stopped calling me “miss” after I became Hunter’s wife.
“Nothing. Let’s go,” I say, walking again.
By the time I reach home, it’s already evening. May has already left after setting our food on the dining table and feeding Rosie and Bruno. Salvario isn’t at home. He goes out quite a lot, unlike Hunter. Another way he’s changed.
I drop my bag in the living room and take Bruno and Rosie out for a walk. I haven’t gone more than a few blocks when I feel it again, that creeping sensation of being watched. Without thinking, my eyes drift to the corner where I used to find Hunter when he first came here.
Could he be here?
I shake my head the moment the thought surfaces. It would be monumentally stupid of him to come here. I don’t think he’s that far out of his mind.
Still, I drop Bruno and Rosie’s leashes so they can roam free. If he’s really here, they’ll find him. They don’t bolt off, though, they stay close until we reach a black Maybach parked at the curb. Bruno crosses the road first and reaches the car, barking, with Rosie following, and then me.
I should grab their leashes and drag them back to the house, we don’t know who’s inside. For all I know, there could be a bomb in that car, and Bruno sensed it. But acting on better judgment hasn’t been my strong suit lately, so I lean closer to the tinted glass and peer inside.
I jump back an instant later, eyes wide, breath caught.
No. No. I must be seeing things. I hold my breath and, heart hammering, lean in again and look inside.
This time, I don’t pull away. A pair of gray eyes holds me in place.
He sits calmly in the driver’s seat, a black mask covering the lower half of his face, dressed in black shirt and black pants, just like the day I first saw him.
One hand rests on the steering wheel; the other taps his thigh.
Even with the width of a seat and a closed door between us, I feel his hand around my throat—squeezing, stealing my breath, robbing me of movement, even of the ability to blink.
It only releases when he decides, when he turns the engine over and pulls the car backward.
I keep staring at the tinted windshield, even though I can’t see him, I know he can see me.
“Who was that?” Remi’s voice yanks me out of my frozen state.
I blink rapidly, trying to come back to myself.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, gathering Bruno and Rosie’s leashes from the ground.
No matter how many times I shake my head or blink, I can’t seem to leave that street behind.
“Are you feeling all right?” Salvario asks.
I nearly jump at the sound of his voice.
“Oh—no, I’m fine,” I manage, forcing a smile.
“You’re not eating,” he observes.
“Ah, that’s because I’m not hungry. I had a brownie and some coffee at Amber’s clinic.”
He reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It must have been a draining session. Get some sleep early.”
I nod, holding my smile in place, then slowly ease my hand from his and rise.
“Finish your dinner. Good night.”
He nods. “Good night.”
I leave the dining room and head upstairs.
Bruno and Rosie are already in my room, probably asleep by now.
They claim the bed after I bathe them following our walk, and I join them after dinner.
Salvario is staying in the guest room downstairs while we take things slowly.
The only problem is that nothing is moving forward, everything is stuck in a loop, and at the center of that loop stands the man I never want to see again.
My chest squeezes; even the thought of it is funny.
I lock the door and step inside. Bruno and Rosie aren’t on the bed. I frown, then spot them sleeping in their own bed. My steps slow. When Hunter was here, they used to sleep at the foot of my bed. Their mattress was deflated and stored in my closet. What’s it doing out here?
There’s no one in the room. The closet door stands open, so I walk toward it. Thankfully, my legs are working, because the way my nerves are firing in excitement—no, not excitement, it’s fear—makes me feel like a live wire moments from snapping. I could collapse to the floor any moment.
I can’t even decide what to focus on, calming my heart before it bursts, slowing my breath so the burning in my lungs eases, or holding my head to stop the spinning. By the time I reach the closet, all those options vanish like smoke in a cold wind.
I can only focus on one thing. The man in the black shirt standing before me, facing the other way. His arms are crossed over his chest, the fabric straining across his wide shoulders and back.
“Where are my clothes?” he asks, turning around.
I clench my jaw, draw a slow breath, and remind myself I hate this man. Then I answer in the coldest tone I can summon. “I burned them.”
Before he can speak, before he can even react, I hurl my question at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He raises a brow. “Can’t I come into my own room?”
Anger surges through my bloodstream. “This is my room. Get the fuck out before I call Salvario.”
He takes a step toward me. “Since I’m legally married to you, this is my room too.”
I retreat three steps toward the door. “We won’t stay married once my father has you back in his prison.”
He chuckles, the way a monster would, utterly devoid of mirth, warmth, or any human feeling. “Don’t worry. Before that happens, I’ll have your father and brother buried ten feet underground.”
His words settle over me with a bitter realization. He’s no longer the man who was ready to give up everything for me. Now, he only wants to take. And I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop him. Still, I try. “I’ll hate you for the rest of my life if you touch them.”
He laughs. “What makes you think I give a fuck about your hatred? It’s not like you were ever going to love me.
” He moves closer. This time, I don’t retreat, I stay rooted against the open closet door.
He lifts his hand and taps a single finger against my chest. “Now I want to see just how much this sunshine heart of yours can hate.”
“You weren’t like this in the cabin.”
He snarls, rage flashing in his eyes like lightning through a thunderhead. “Because back then, I was foolish enough to hope I could earn your love. You burned that hope the second you let that motherfucker put his hands on you.”
I shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge. Once again, I let him get too close.
Once again, he believes he has the right to stay where he isn’t wanted.
I was wrong to think—even for a second—that this man ever wanted only to give.
He was always here to take. Using whatever method he could, whether manipulation or force.
And he took everything so thoroughly there’s nothing left.
My fury kindles, stoked by hatred for him.
I refuse to accept that some of this hatred burns just as fiercely for myself.
“You fucking ruined me for him.” I force the words through the lump in my throat.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry in front of this bastard.
“You fucking ruined me so thoroughly I can’t even stand the touch of the man I love.
” I don’t raise my voice. Why do I still care whether Salvario finds out?
Whether he kills him? He should kill him—should free me from him.
His anger fades. The thunderhead of rage ebbs in a second. “What did you say?” He asks slowly, putting equal emphasis on each word, like he didn’t hear me and desperately needs me to say it again. But I know he did.
“I said I hate you, you bastard. Just fucking leave me.” I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. All the denial strips away, leaving me bare to my own ugly reality.
I pound at his chest, claw at his shirt.
The maddening rage—at him, at myself—comes pouring out in its raw, ugly form.
I tear at him like a woman possessed. The fabric tears, along with some of his skin.
This is exactly how I’ve wanted to tear him out of my head.
But I’m a fucking failure at that, so I unleash the demon on the monster who created it.
“Fucking get out of my head,” I cry out.
He lets me claw at him until I’m breathless. Then he grips my numb arms tightly and pulls me against him, forcing me onto my tiptoes. His eyes bore into mine, his fingers branding my arms beneath their hold.
“You think it’s that easy? Do you know how deep you’ve etched yourself into me?
You could bleed me dry, hollow me to the bone, and when every last trace of me is gone, you’d still remain.
” He releases me. I stumble backward, my back hitting the doorframe behind me.
“If even a single ounce of this obsession lives in you, you will never be rid of me. Not in this life.”
I scrub my tears away. “If dying is what it takes to be free of you, then so be it.”
The thunderhead reforms, more vicious than before.
I step out of the closet, never breaking eye contact with the beast. He follows me into the room.
I keep backing away until he decides it’s enough, then he lunges and seizes my wrist. He yanks me back to him by the wrist. I twist, trying to break free, but he doesn’t let go.
He locks his other arm around my waist, cinching me in a bruising hold.
He lowers his face, his blazing gaze spearing into mine. “Do it, and I’ll hunt you down in the afterlife. But before that, I’ll send every person you love ahead of you.”
“How long are you going to threaten me with the deaths of innocent people? Don’t you have any other threat?”
He loosens his grip on my wrist, his thumb grazing the sore flesh. “Blame that soft heart of yours. It’s so weak anyone can use it against you.”
I wrench my wrist free.
“Never say that again. I mean it, Elowen. If you try to take your own life, it will end with the deaths of many." He seizes my face between his thumb and fingers, forcing my lips into a pout. “You are not allowed to die.”
He releases my face, turns, and walks away. Like a fool, I think he’s heading for the balcony, the way he must have come in.
He does no such thing. Instead, he turns toward the bed, lies down on his back, kicks off his shoes, and laces his hands behind his head.