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I realize with daunting clarity that I look cold, too. Detached. Indifferent.
And while I’m used to that from Eli, I’ve never been like that. Not even when I’m faced with his mocking, rude, and obnoxiously hurtful words. I might have pretended to be nonchalant around him, but that was only a camouflage for what I truly felt.
Just because I acted like a badass doesn’t mean I was immune to pain. He could and did hurt me, several times.
The way I stare at the camera is exactly what I wished my expression would be like whenever I face him.
I marry the guy and suddenly I look terrifyingly like him.
What type of sorcery is that?
I scroll to a picture where Eli and I are facing each other. He has one hand on my hip, the other lifting my chin. Our friends are surrounding us with their significant others. Killian hugs Glyn to his front, Jeremy holds Cecily at his side by the waist, Anni is climbing Creigh’s massive body, Lan is Frenching the shit out of Mia, Nikolai hugs Bran from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, and Ari holds her face in both palms and makes heart eyes at a Remi, who’s shoving her away while grinning at the camera.
Amid all that chaos, the only thing I can focus on is the way I’m looking at Eli. Is that…fear in my eyes? Trepidation?
What fuckery happened for me to decide I needed to marry the devil himself to resolve it?
There must’ve been something.
“Cecy…Ari…that night I last remember, what happened after the accident? Was I fatally injured? Did I hit my head?”
A furrow appears in both their foreheads.
“What accident?” Cecily asks slowly.
“The night you left the club with Jeremy. When I texted you that I was going home, I was actually driving to an after-party.I had a weirdo following me, so I called the police and then I think I was hit by a truck or pushed to the side of the road or something.”
Cecily pauses, fidgets, opens her mouth, then stops.
“What now?” I whisper.
“There was no accident, Ava,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” Ari says. “You came back home late that night. I saw you the next morning, and you were fine.”
“No, I called the police, I—” My words get caught in my throat when a flash hits me out of nowhere.
Long, cruel fingers squeeze my face as flashing anger engulfs me whole. “You’ll keep your goddamn mouth shut, Ava, or so help me God, I’ll sew it shut for you.”
The door opens and I jolt as I meet those eyes. The same eyes that threatened me. No, theyterrifiedme. I can still feel the harsh grip of his fingers around my jaw and the tremor that passed through me at the time.
Eli is my husband, but something tells me this marriage is more of an imprisonment. A way for him to control me. Sew my mouth shut, as he promised.
But about what?
“The doctor agreed to your discharge.” He steps inside in his tailored black trousers and crisp blue shirt, cuffs immaculate, hair pushed back, and presence stifling. The only thing out of place is the slight stubble covering his cheeks as if he hasn’t found the time to groom it.
“Get ready, would you?” he says. “I don’t have all day.”
“All day for what?” I ask with audible trepidation.
“To take you home, Mrs. King.”
5
ELI
My life is built around well-traced lines and impeccably connected patterns.
