Piper
My worst nightmare has come to life.
I always knew it would.
But knowing something and witnessing it are two entirely different things.
The hatred I saw in Hunter’s eyes earlier?
It was nothing.
Nothing compared to what’s there now.
Anger, malice, shock, hurt.
They’re all there, warring for dominance as his eyes move between his father and me.
And I understand every bit of it.
The guilt is eating me alive.
I know Hunter has a good relationship with his father.
Or at least as good a relationship as someone like Hunter is capable of having.
And I might have just destroyed it.
Might have destroyed him.
And myself in the process.
A tear rolls down my cheek at the finality of what this means.
I always knew this day would come.
I am a terrible human being, and I’m not saying that because I want sympathy.
I’m simply stating a fact.
I should have stayed away from him from the very beginning.
The first time?
When I gave him my virginity, I knew full well I was due to marry his father after that night.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I just...
I just wanted to feel.
For so long, I thought there was something wrong with me.
Every time I tried to have something with a man, I couldn’t seem to let go.
I never felt safe enough.
Never trusted.
Then I met Hunter.
One look was all it took.
I felt the weight of his attention from the other side of that party, and my body reacted before my mind had the chance to interfere.
We talked.
He kissed me.
And for the first time in my life, I stopped fighting myself.
I stopped thinking, stopped worrying.
I simply let myself feel.
And after that first time, staying away from him became impossible.
With every stolen moment, every kiss and every touch, I sank deeper until I no longer knew how to find my way back out.
And now I stand between the Wardgrave men and mourn.
I mourn whatever existed between Hunter and me.
I mourn the possibility of what it could have become.
And, maybe, I mourn myself too.
Because Hunter finally got what he wanted.
The truth.
Now he knows who my husband is.
I’ve been sleeping with my husband’s son.
Who does that?
I close my eyes.
The guilt, the fear, and the self-loathing are simply too much.
And it’s all for Hunter.
Because it’s not as though I’ve destroyed some great love story between my husband and me.
I’m just trapped.
And it’s not as is he’s faithful to me.
He isn’t.
Yet somehow, when the woman does it, it becomes a stain on the man’s honour.
A disgrace.
“I...” I begin, not even sure what words could possibly make any of this better.
“Is it true?” Hunter asks.
His voice is deadly.
“Are you married to my father, Piper?”
I close my eyes for a brief second, then force them open again.
“Yes.”
The look of disgust he levels at me almost breaks me.
“I told you—you would hate me.”
He laughs, but it lacks any trace of humour.
“Well, you have that quite wrong. Hate is far too mild a word for what I really feel. Abhorrence, perhaps. Repugnance, disdain is more fitting.”
Each word sends me spiralling further, but somehow I keep myself together.
“I’m fucking done here,” Hunter says before turning and striding away.
“Now, now,” my husband says.
The amusement in his voice makes me feel sick.
“You really don’t learn, do you?”
He takes hold of my arm and steers me through a door at the back of the restaurant.
His grip is bruising.
But the agony that tears through my chest eclipses everything else.
The drive back, to my new home or my cage, depending on how one chooses to define it, passes in a haze.
I barely register anything beyond the violent rhythm of my own heartbeat and the image of his face, burned so deeply into my mind that I can’t seem to escape it.
God.
The way he looked at me.
All of it, the hurt, the anger, disbelief, but most of all, the disgust.
He left, and I don’t even know if I will ever see him again.
Though, in truth, I suppose that is unlikely.
At the end of the day, I am married to his father.
Our paths are bound to cross again, whether either of us wishes it or not.
But I imagine he will avoid me now.
And whatever chance there may have been to explain any of it, it’s gone.
And even if I could explain…
What would be the point?
I can never escape my marriage.
I never had a choice in it.
They forced me to sign.
And I remain just as trapped now as I was then.
I am bound to Frederick Wardgrave.
And there is no saving me.
I am to live my life tied to a man twice my age, in a marriage devoid of anything resembling love.
A marriage where cruelty is more familiar than kindness.
He is a cruel man.
And I am simply stuck.
There is no leaving. My life depends on it, and so does my father’s.
So perhaps one could say I sacrificed myself for my father.
And some nights, lying awake in the dark, I wonder if it was worth it.
If there might have been another way.
But what is done is done.
There is no use dwelling on it now.
I fall into autopilot as the car comes to a stop in front of the house.
The door opens.
Frederick steps out, then rounds the car and opens mine.
He grips me and pulls me out with a force that makes it difficult to keep my footing as I try to match his pace.
He is seething.
We enter the house and I immediately notice the silence. His guards are nowhere to be seen. Neither is the staff.
No witnesses.
He shoves me into the living room. I lose my balance and fall to my knees.
“Pathetic little whore,” he breathes, his voice low and venomous, just before his palm connects with my face.
My head snaps to the side.
But I don’t make a sound.
“I told you to stay away from him. I told you to stay away from my son.”
He punches me, and I feel my lip split as blood fills my mouth.
But it barely registers before he comes at me again.
And again.
I could try to fight back, but what is the point?
He doesn’t care where he hits.
Usually, he’s more careful, he makes sure most of the damage stays hidden.
Tonight, he’s too far gone, too consumed by rage.
But that’s not the only reason.
He doesn’t need to be careful anymore.
I won’t be returning to the academy any time soon.
If ever.
Not after what I’ve done in his eyes.
So it no longer matters if the bruises show.
There will be no one left to see them.
“Fucking whore. You’ve sunk so low you fucked my son.”
His foot slams into my stomach and bile surges up my throat. I barely manage to keep it down.
Hit after hit follows.
My stomach, ribs, my chest, head.
Anywhere he can reach.
I’m dizzy.
So dizzy, this can’t be normal.
The room tilts and spins, and I cling to consciousness with everything I have.
As for not vomiting?
I failed at that around the fourth kick to my stomach.
Or maybe the third blow to my head.
It’s hard to tell.
“Please... stop,” I croak.
But he either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care.
“I told you to stay away from him. You’re lucky our marriage still isn’t public knowledge, because otherwise I’d have no choice but to kill you.”
Death doesn’t sound so terrible right now.
In fact, I find myself hoping the next blow will finally knock me unconscious.
Why the hell hasn’t it happened already?
Why am I still awake?
He yanks my head up by the hair and a broken sound leaves my lips.
I don’t think I can speak anymore.
“I need you alive. There’s a deal in place with your father. But for what you fucking did, you’ll wish I’d killed you instead,” he growls into my ear.
“You’re never leaving this house again. I’ll pump you so full of drugs you won’t even know your own name anymore. And when you’re nothing more than a pliant doll who smiles when she’s told to smile and stays quiet when she’s told to stay quiet, then I’ll parade you around on my arm.”
His grip tightens. “Just like the obedient little thing I made you.”
A sob lodges in my throat, but no sound leaves me.
“This is only the beginning of your nightmare.”
He releases my hair.
My head cracks against the marble, and pain explodes behind my eyes.
I can’t breathe.
And when consciousness finally begins to slip away, relief washes through me.
I’d rather die than let him break me.