63

63
Perry’s pov
I was about to pour myself a drink when I realized the house was too quiet. 
The villa was too quiet.
I hated silence.
It crept through the halls like a warning, getting into my bones until all I could hear was the echo of my own rage. My house should never feel like this… empty, and abandoned. 
She should have been here, on her knees if I demanded— her eyes lowered,and her lips ought to had been soft with apologies.
But instead, I got nothing.
“Imogen?” My voice cut through the stillness, sharp as a whip.
No answer.
I walked through the bedroom, my pulse raising as I met the bedsheet smooth, the pillows were untouched even the closet door were  half open but empty of her.
I sucked my teeth together, Where the fuck was she?
I’d just walked out of a cage, I was in shackles. Shame pressing down on me like I was some fucking criminal. 
Me. 
Perry Cullen. 
After all that… after the humiliation of standing cuffed while officers smirked, after forcing my way back into my place as a man, as a husband, as the one who ruled this house— my wife wasn’t waiting for me.
The arrogance.
The disrespect.
My hand curled into a fist as I  could already picture it— dragging her back into line, reminding her who she belonged to, forcing her to remember with the sharp pain of my hand or the bruises she’d learned to hide.
A sound, soft and breathless— that came out  through the bathroom door.
I stepped closer, my ear catching the rhythm of her breath. It wasn’t steady but fast and shallow.
My blood went still.
Was she moaning?
How the fuck was she touching herself?
“Silas…” her voice moaned out his name.
The name cracked the air like thunder.
My whole body locked for a second, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t breathe either.
That son of a bitch’s name was on her lips and she was fucking herself to just his name?
Heat wave ran through me so fast I nearly fell as my vision went blurred with anger at the edges. My hand clenched around the glass I’d been holding, and it slipped— shattering against the bedroom floor.
I didn’t even give heed to the glass on the floor rather all I could hear was her voice, breaking apart with need.
For him!
But not for me!
A roar burned in my throat as I shoved open the bathroom door. The steam flowed out, hot and thick, wrapping around me, choking me with the scent of her skin— the intimacy of her betrayal. The air was heavy with it— sex, desire, and longing.
And there she was standing wrapped in nothing but a towel, clinging to her wet skin. Her hair was slid back, dripping down her shoulders. Her lips parted, swollen, and her chest was rising and falling too fast, betraying exactly what she’d been doing.
Her eyes snapped to mine— wide, startled but they didn’t show any ounce of guilt or fear.
Fire burned in her gaze, defiance rising where fear used to live.
“You dirty little whore.” My voice was rough, but shaking with fury. “Moaning another man’s name while you’re in my house? While I’m right here?”
She didn’t flinch nor did she try to hide.
Instead, she pulled the towel tighter around her body, lifted her chin, and looked me dead straight in the eye.
“Yes,” she spat out, her voice steady. “I did.”
The ground shifted beneath me.
I blinked, trying to comprehend the audacity as she admitted it— to my face.
“You—” My voice cracked with disbelief. “You admit it?”
“I’m not guilty of anything.” Her voice sharpened, slicing through the steam like glass. “You beat me and broke me, over and over until there was nothing left.  You made me into something small and silent, but I am done, Perry.”
Her words punched straight into me, leaving my chest hollow and burning.
I lunged, slamming my hand against the wall beside her head. The tile cracked under my fist, sharp pain slicing across my knuckles, but I didn’t care. I leaned close, my breath scorching her face.
“You’re mine,” I snarled. “Do you hear me? MINE. Your body, your voice, your fucking breath. You don’t get to give it to him. You don’t get to say his name like that, and you don’t get to take what’s mine and give it away.”
Her face remained unfazed as she turned to me. “This is your new normal,” she said, low, firm, and merciless. Her voice was void of anything I had known
Her words hit harder than any blade.
“You think you can stand there and speak to me like this?” I snarled, stepping closer. “You think Silas is your salvation? That bastard will use you, fuck you, toss you aside like the trash that you are, but  me?” I pointed a finger at my chest, my voice cracking with fury. “I’m the only one who—”
“No.” Her voice cracked like a whip.
I froze.
The word silenced me. 
Me!
Her eyes burned into mine, and for the first time, I felt it— a power that was not mine but hers.
She stepped forward, towel slipping slightly as she moved, until we were almost chest to chest. The steam curled around us like smoke from a fire I couldn’t put out.
“You don’t own me, Perry. Not my body or my voice… even my pussy, you don’t own. You want to rage about Silas? Rage. You want to scream? Scream. You can hit the walls until your fists bleed, but it won’t change the truth.” Her gaze pierced through me, unwavering and merciless.
“Here’s the truth— he makes me feel alive and more of a man and I mean this in the most nasty way. Something you never could and what you never will be.”
Her words gutted me.
Something cracked inside my chest. For years, I had kept her small, controlled and made her mine but the woman standing in front of me wasn’t that creature I had created.
This was something new, and it was dangerous.
“You’re mine,” I spat, but the words shook and came out weaker than I wanted.
She laughed— a cold, cruel laugh that sounded like freedom.
“No, Perry. I was yours. Past tense. So, not yours anymore.”
Her hand brushed against my chest— not soft, not tender, but a shove. She pushed me back a step, my heels scraping against the wet floor.
I stood frozen, stunned by the audacity, the force of her touch.
She brushed past me, head high, the towel sliding dangerously low on her body, not caring that I could see, not caring what I thought.
At the doorway, she paused. Turned back and fixed her gaze on me and I could feel them slicing into me, as her lips curling into a smile sharp enough to cut.
“Now, get out of my room.”
The command landed like a hammer.
My breath caught as my  body immediately froze in the spot that I stood.
Me? 
Perry Cullen?
Silenced and ordered?
By my wife?
The audacity of her words burned through me, but beneath my rage, something darker coiled.
A smile tugged at my lips— sharp, and cruel as I moved to where she stood beside the door. 
“Oh, Imogen…” I whispered, leaning close so that my breath was felt by  her. “You think you’ve won? That you can parade your rebellion and run into Silas’s arms? That I can’t touch you anymore?”
Her eyes flickered, just for a second, then I knew— I still had something left.
“I’ve got proof. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Her face paled, and satisfaction spread through me like fire.
“You wouldn’t,” she hissed.
I grinned, leaning closer. “I would, and I will. Unless you start remembering who you belong to. Unless you play the good wife, the loyal one, the one who keeps her mouth shut and legs closed.”
Her hands shook, clutching the towel tighter, but she lifted her chin again, strong determination in her voice.
“You can blackmail me all you want. You can wave your threats, but you’ll never have me again, Perry. Not really and certainly not the way you want.”
That cut deeper than any blade.
I lunged, gripping her wrist hard enough to make her wince. “Then get used to this new normal too, darling. You may not be mine in here—” I tapped her chest, pressing my thumb cruelly into her skin. “But out there? To the world? You’re still Mrs. Cullen. And I’ll make damn sure you never forget it.”
She ripped her wrist free, fury blazing in her eyes.
“Get out of my room.”