Chapter 10
KENAI.
By the time her husband packed, the private jet he would take was already waiting.
I couldn't wait for Monday anymore. I needed some time with my Shannon tonight, and he was the obstacle. Had to make sure he left already.
By the time she cried into a pillow I’ve used more than he has, I’d already turned off the tower that carries her messages.
People call it paranoia when a woman says the lines are dead. Others call it maintenance when the company reports a brief outage. Language matters. It’s funny how easy it is to make the world think a woman’s fear is just hysteria.
You want to know what it felt like to stand in front of her again after eight years of concrete, noise, and nights that smelled like bleach? It felt like opening a door I built with my own hands. It felt like a prayer answered by a god I don’t believe in. It felt like coming home to a house I own that someone else has been sleeping in.
And when she said my name in her hypnotic state, everything inside me, every ugly, broken, disciplined part that had died behind those bars, stood still and took attendance.
I used to be a boy who would have dragged her into a corner and begged. I am not that boy anymore. I’m the man who buys the corners and decides who is allowed to stand in them.
"You shouldn’t have drunk the juice."
I said it because I liked the truth. Most people use lies to feel better.
I’d watched her fight the drowsiness for a while before she gave in. The juice worked better than I expected. I didn’t need her to sleep, just to stop running.
Her pupils tried to track me, but her body won’t. That’s the thing about this mix — it keeps your mind awake, but your muscles off.
She could see me. She could hear me. She could feel my hand when I brushed the hair from her face. She just couldn't run from it. From me.
“Look at you,” I murmured. “Still pretty when you’re scared.”
I sat on the edge of her bed like I’d done a hundred times when the house was empty.
“Hello, dear sister,” I said quietly, brushing her hair away from her face. “It’s time to talk.”
Her pupils dilated. She was terrified.
I let my thumb trace the outline of her jaw, then her lips. She was trembling under my touch even though she couldn’t move. The pulse in her neck beat so fast I could almost taste it.
I leaned closer, close enough to see the faint scar on her temple, the one she got when we were kids, from running into the kitchen counter. I remembered holding her while she cried, swearing I’d never let anyone hurt her again.
“How did it feel, Shannon?” My voice dropped lower. “Walking away while I was dragged out in cuffs? Sleeping at night while I rotted for what you did?”
Her eyes glistened. A tear rolled down her cheek, and I caught it with my thumb before it hit the pillow. I lifted it to my lips and tasted it. Salt. Fear. Guilt. All the flavors I’d been starving for.
I smiled. “You still taste the same.”
My hand brushed down to her arm, then her wrist. Every inch of her was familiar and foreign at once, like finding a map you memorized as a boy and realizing the roads have changed.
“Do you remember the promise we made?” I whispered. “That we’d never leave each other? That we’d always be together no matter what?”
Her eyes shifted.
“I remember,” I said to her. “I remember every word. You promised, Shannon. And then you left me in hell.”
I leaned closer, close enough that our noses almost brushed. “And what did you do? You ran.”
Her breathing hitched, and I found it a perfect time to claim her lips. I moved even closer, but I stopped myself just when my lips brushed lightly against hers.
Fuck.
I didn't want to start something that would end up being a disaster. I couldn't touch her just yet. I wanted her to be wide awake when I finally decide to take her.
I want her to feel every bit of me when I decide it's finally time to take what was mine.
She'd feel the hunger. The fury. The wrath and the ruin. She wasn't going to escape all that. I'd kept it buried for years now. And soon enough, I'd unleash it all on her.
Fuck. The thought of it alone made my cock twitch so hard I thought my pants would tear.
“I wrote to you,” I said softly. “Seventy-two letters. Do you remember any of them? I told you about my cell. About the fights. About how I carved your initials into my arm with a broken fork. About how I stopped eating for four days because the man who served my meal once said your name wrong.”
I smiled faintly. “You never wrote back.”
I slid my fingers over her collarbone, tracing the edge of her skin. “You don’t get it, do you? You never could. You think this life you built — this husband, this house, this new name — means you’re safe? That you’re free from me?”
My tone softened, but it was colder than before. “You’re not. You never will be. You belong to me, Shannon. Every breath, every memory, every fucking heartbeat.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek. I caught that one too, rubbed it between my fingers.
“You shouldn’t cry,” I whispered. “You’ll make me do something we’ll both regret.”
I stood after a while, pacing beside the bed. I couldn’t sit still anymore. Being this close to her, after years of silence and concrete walls, made every nerve in my body vibrate.
“Do you know what I did while you were pretending to be happy?” I asked, half laughing. “I built everything you see around you. The company. The empire. The money. Every cent came from the blood I spilled in that prison. Every hardship I had to endure taught me how to build something that could finally make me worthy of standing next to you again.”
I turned to her and crouched beside the bed, my voice dropping into a very low whisper.
“And now look at us. You, lying here helpless… and me, finally home.”
I brushed my knuckles along her jaw once more. “I should hate you for what you did. But I can’t. Because hate and love — they stopped meaning different things the moment I took the fall for you.”
I bent closer, close enough for her to see the faint scar above my lip, the one she used to kiss when we were kids. "God, I fucking missed you. So much." My voice shook. I swear, it did.
Her eyes filled again, blurring over. She was fighting to stay awake, but I didn’t let her win.
“Sleep, Shannon,” I whispered against her ear. “By the time you wake up in the morning, your life will have turned upside down. And I'd be the only one you will be running to.”
And I sat there beside her in the half-light, my hand resting on hers, until her eyelids fluttered closed and her breathing softened.
Fuck. Now, I couldn't wait for what's to hit her tomorrow. She won't see this coming.