Chapter 41

Adrik POV

I shook my head slowly, a quiet scoff escaping as my brother exited my office—his back stiff with defiance, but I saw the hesitation in his shoulders. He’d fail. Again. He always does. And I’m always the one left to clean up the mess.

As the door clicked shut behind him, my gaze instinctively returned to the screen mounted discreetly on the wall behind my desk. The footage flickered faintly in black and white, capturing her—my wife—curled up on the bed. My breath stilled.

She was asleep.

Somehow, despite everything… despite the weight she must feel, the fear I know lingers at the edge of her every thought, she had drifted off. My beautiful, reckless girl. So unaware of just how tightly she’s wrapped around the core of my world.

Even asleep, she moves me.

The sheets were tangled around her legs, her bare shoulder peeking through the satin fabric of her nightdress. Her hand rested just near her head, her fingers curled slightly, as if she’d been reaching for something before sleep took her. Maybe the rabbit. Maybe me.

God, she was art. Unintentional and raw.

And mine.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin, letting my eyes drink in every detail. The soft rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her lashes, the way the curve of her neck was exposed just enough to make my fingers twitch with want.

There were moments like this where I could almost convince myself I was capable of loving her gently. Almost.

But darkness doesn’t know how to be soft.

And she—she was the only thing that’s ever made me want to try.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

It was sick, maybe. The way I watched her when she didn’t know. But obsession rarely follows logic. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and the last image burned into my mind before sleep. Sometimes I wondered if she’d ever understand just how deep this possession ran. How much I craved her in ways no sane man should.

She moved slightly—just the twitch of a leg under the covers—and something tightened in my chest. The instinct to go to her, to slip into that bed and pull her body into mine, was nearly overwhelming. But I didn’t. I liked watching her more. It gave me perspective. It reminded me of how far I’d come… how much control I could still pretend to have.

Even when I knew it was cracking.

There was a drawer in my office filled with her photos. Not staged or filtered—real moments. Her brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Her whispering to that damn rabbit. Her flinching when she thought she was alone.

I’d memorized every one.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk, and exhaled slowly. My mother’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of my head—sharp, persistent, demanding. “Has she given you a child yet?” she’d asked, again and again. As if that’s all Joy was meant for. A vessel. A womb. An heir.

They didn’t understand. It was never about children.

It was about her.

Everything was about her.

My obsession. My hunger. My rage. My restraint. Every line I had ever crossed… every monster I had let loose… all of it traced back to her. The girl who ruined me without even trying. The wife who still hadn’t realized just how far I’d go to keep her.

And still… she had the audacity to keep secrets from me.

I knew about the pills.

She thought I didn’t. She thought sneaking into the garden at ungodly hours was subtle. That I wouldn’t notice how her scent changed, how her skin reacted. Foolish girl. As if I wouldn’t rip apart the entire earth to uncover what she was hiding from me.

She thinks she’s clever.

But soon, she’ll learn—there’s nothing she does that I don’t already see.

My phone buzzed with a call from one of my most trusted men.

I answered with a slight growl in my voice, already annoyed at the interruption. I was watching her. She had just turned in bed, the sheets slipping slightly to reveal the smooth curve of her shoulder. And now this.

“What is it?” I snapped.

“She went out again, sir. Just like you suspected. Same time. Same place.”

I leaned back slowly, my jaw tightening as a bitter smirk crept onto my face. So she was still trying to outsmart me.

Still running this little game.

Still taking those damn pills.

“I see,” I muttered, fingers drumming against the armrest. “Did she see you?”

“No, sir. She didn’t even look around. Had the rabbit with her again.”

Of course she did. That cursed little thing had become her shadow. If she could, she’d probably run away with just that animal in her arms and think it was enough. She didn’t realize that nothing she loves can exist outside my permission.

“Good. Keep watching. Don’t interfere. Not yet.”

I ended the call and tossed the phone on the desk with a thud. My eyes returned to the screen, where she now curled into herself under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. So delicate. So unaware of the storm she was walking into.

She thought I’d let this slide. That I’d stay quiet and let her defy me in silence.

But no one defies me.

Not even her.

And when I do act… she’ll remember exactly who she belongs to.

Deciding it was time to release some of the tension simmering beneath my skin, I rose from my chair, my gaze lingering on the frozen image of her sleeping form. My jaw clenched. As much as I wanted to be gentle with her—my perfect little storm—there was a violence inside me that needed to be fed.

I made my way down to the basement, the air growing colder and thicker with each step. The scent of iron and dust hung heavy, familiar. Comforting, even. The walls down here had heard more screams than prayers, and tonight, they would echo again.

There was a man waiting in one of the cells—one of the traitors.

Foolish. I’d kept him alive for nights like this. For release. For control.

As I stepped into the chamber, he flinched against the restraints, eyes wide with terror. I smiled. A slow, twisted thing.

“It’s time,” I murmured, voice low. “Let’s have some fun.”

Because if I couldn’t carve the truth from my wife’s lips just yet… I’d carve it out of someone else.

Please… I promise I’m innocent. I didn’t sell any information to our enemies,” he sobbed, voice trembling and thick with desperation.

I tilted my head, watching him squirm under the low, flickering basement lights. The chains clinked as he shifted, his fear pouring off him in waves. It amused me.

“So who did, if not you?” I asked, my tone eerily calm. “You see, that’s the problem with traitors… they always think they’re smart enough to hide.”

He opened his mouth to plead again, but I cut him off with a chuckle.

“You might wonder how I caught you,” I continued, taking a slow step forward. “Here’s the irony—it’s the same people you sold my information to… that sold you out. No honor among cowards, I suppose.”

He went pale, his mouth falling open as realization sank in.

I leaned down, eyes locked on his. “They didn’t just give you up… they begged for me to take you first. Said you talked too much. That you were weak.”

My smile was cold. “I intend to prove them right.”

crouched before him, calm—too calm. “explain how our location was compromised. Explain how the convoy was ambushed at a perfect choke point. Or better yet…” I leaned in, my voice a whisper against his ear, “explain why the same people you sold us out to were the ones who handed me your name.”

He flinched, his eyes wide. “I—no, no, they’re lying! They’re trying to turn us against each other!”

I smiled. It wasn’t kind.

I stepped back, rolled up my sleeves, and walked over to the table filled with my personal collection—tools not meant for fixing, but for breaking. The room already reeked of blood and metal and desperation.

“You know what disappoints me the most?” I asked, picking up the slender blade with a curved tip. “It’s not the betrayal. It’s the cowardice.”

He opened his mouth to plead again, but the sound twisted into a scream as I drove the blade into the soft flesh below his ribs—precise, controlled, cruel.

“Each time you lied, a man died.” Another stab. “Each time you kept quiet, a shipment disappeared.” Another.

By the time I was done, he wasn’t even crying anymore. Just twitching. Barely conscious.

I grabbed his chin and made him look me in the eye.

“This is what loyalty means to me. And your death—” I dragged the blade slowly across his throat, watching his final breath gurgle and spill—“is what betrayal earns.”

The silence that followed was almost peaceful. Almost.

Blood soaked the floor beneath my boots as I turned away, calm once again. One traitor down. A message sent.

Now, it was time to wash off the filth—and maybe check on my wife. I needed something soft to touch after such brutality.

And she was always the perfect contrast.