Page 2 of After the Chase

"And do you, Chase Blackford, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do,” I say, my voice is steady because I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

"Then by the authority vested in me by the French Republic, I now pronounce you married."

Noah's hand cups the back of my neck firmly as he kisses me with a possessive intensity that’s neither passionate or tender. It's a claiming of another person and a reminder that I'm his now, legally and completely.

When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my jaw. "Mine," he murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"Yours," I agree.

Céline and Pierre sign the marriage certificate with obvious relief that this strange encounter is ending. Noah hands each of them five hundred euros in cash, which is far more than necessary, and they leave quickly, probably wondering what they just witnessed.

Monsieur Beaumont processes the paperwork in silence, his hands still shaking slightly from what I assume is an adrenaline drop. When he slides the official certificate across his desk, Noah takes it without thanks and grabs my hand. We walk out into the Provençal sunshine as husbands.

It’s later in the evening and I'm sitting at the villa's writing desk with my journal open, fountain pen in hand, trying to capture what happened today. The window is open, warm evening air carrying the scent of rosemary and sea air, and I can hear Noah in the shower.

Noah married me today,I write.He didn't ask if I wanted a traditional wedding or if I wanted to wait or if I wanted my family there. He simply decided it was happening, and then he made it happen. He intimidated a small-town mayor, bribed him with a substantial donation, and coerced two strangers into witnessing our marriage. The day has been beautiful.

I pause, reading that last sentence.Has been beautiful.

Is that true? Or is that what I need to believe?

The therapist in me still tries to break free every now and again, sometimes with my ex-friend and colleague Liam’s voice in my head. I internally find myself recording Noah’s complete lack of empathy, his inability to form genuine emotional connections, his textbook antisocial personality disorder. I should do a report on myself as sometimes I wake in the night and think I should be concerned. Noah displays every classic manipulation tactic even today: intimidation, financial coercion, veiled threats, complete disregard for others' autonomy.

But then I look at him and the rest of me, mainly the part that's been falling into Noah's gravity since he first walked into my office, sees something else. I see a man who wanted me so completely that he refused to wait another day. A man who looked at any obstacles and simply removed them. A man who claimed me with the same ruthless persistence he brings to everything.

I know he doesn't love me the way normal people love,I write.He can't. His brain doesn't work that way. But he possesses me and owns me in every way. He's built his entire world around keeping me, controlling me, ensuring that I belong exclusively to him. And God help me, I've never felt more wanted in my entire life.

I flip back through earlier entries at brief notes from our therapy sessions that I kept, observations about his behavior patterns, clinical assessments of his pathology. After we got together, my professional case notes transformed into journalling. Behind closed doors my notes became more personal and intimate. Less about his issues and more about how my obsession with him was growing more with each day. The curiosity of how he works taking over my life.

I'm going to keep documenting this,I write.Our marriage. Our travels. The way Noah moves through the world with absolute certainty that he's entitled to whatever he wants. The way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters, and especially how he removes any obstacle in his way.

I stop writing, pen hovering over the page.

Removes obstacles.

I allow the locks on my brain to loosen as I briefly remember my ex, Wade, and how he disappeared after that shitshow of a break up when Noah appeared in my life. I remember how I cut off from the situation as I promised myself to forever live in denial. Noah has never hidden anything from me, but he knew that I had my limit. So I never asked Noah about it as I never wanted confirmation.

But I knew. And that’s where the scary part comes in as I didn’t care about what he did. It was the tendril in my stomach of how thrilling it felt, but I squashed it down as soon as it appeared.

The way he removes obstacles,I continue writing, my hand steadier now.The way he ensures nothing threatens what's his. But I will never run from it like I would advise another person or a patient, I’m too far gone as I can’t live without him. I'm his now. But as time progresses I want to understand him more and not live in denial. I want to keep a record of every aspect of his pathology, every manifestation of his obsession. Not as his therapist, as that boundary is long gone. But as his husband. As the only person who gets to see the full extent of what he is.

This journal is going to become something darker than a love story. It's going to be a case study of psychopathy in its purest form. A record of my own descent into complicity, and I can't wait to see where it leads.

I close the journal and look at the ring on my finger, a simple platinum ring with no engraving, chosen by Noah, again without consulting me. It fits perfectly because Noah knows everything about me. My measurements, preferences and my weaknesses.

From the bedroom, I hear Noah call my name, summoning me toward him. I stand, leaving the journal on the desk, and go to him, because that’s what you do when you belong to someone like Noah, you submit yourself fully.

And nothing else matters.

CHAPTER ONE

CHASE

Today - Italy

I'm watching Noah watch me through the reflection of the window, and I know exactly what he's doing. He’s cataloguing and assessing threat levels with the precision of a military drone identifying targets. It's what he always does, what he's always done since the first day he walked into my office and told me emotions were a weakness.