Chapter 13 13
FREYA POV
I opened my eyes slowly, but my head felt like someone was using a hammer on the inside of my skull. For a second, I just stared at the ceiling, wondering why it was so damn white, and then the memories hit me like a physical punch.
Mark. The gym
And then I remembered Steve’s face right before the world went black.
He knocked me out.
"Oh my god," I choked out, my voice sounding like I’d swallowed glass.
I scrambled to get off the bed, my head spinning so fast I almost fell back down.
“How long have I been lying here like a corpse?”
“God.”
I was halfway to the door when I realized I wasn’t alone. A tall, dark figure was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and staying perfectly still.
"Steve," I breathed, my voice a mix of shock and accusation.
"You're up," he said. His voice was calm, with no apology in it at all. He didn't move at first, just tracked me with those intense eyes before pushing off the doorframe. He glanced down at his watch as he started walking toward me. "About six hours."
“What? You mean I’ve been out for six hours?” I asked, staring at him. He just gave a short nod, like being out for half a day was nothing.
“What gave you the right to do that to me?”
“I gave myself the right, and I’m not sorry,” he said flatly.
The coldness in his voice made me freeze. “What?”
I felt an anger inside me, but before I could react, a sharp, stabbing headache hit me. It was so sudden I had to grab my head, my eyes squeezing shut as I swayed on his feet. I felt like I was going to tip over.
But Steve moved instantly and caught my shoulders to hold me steady in just one step.
“Are you—”
I barely heard what he said; the moment his hands touched me, that familiar, intense heat flooded through my skin. It was a touch I hadn't asked for, but my body reacted anyway. I looked up at him, and he was giving me that look—the one where it felt like he could feel everything happening inside me. Like he was reading my pain and my anger all at once.
I didn't want him to see me like this. I pushed his hands away, using the last of my strength to break the contact. I let out a shaky breath and tried to walk toward the door. I just needed to get out of this room.
But I didn't get far when Steve reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stop. I looked up at him, ready to scream again, but the look on his face stopped me.
“Going to meet him?” he asked.
“Him,” Mark. I knew exactly who he was talking about. I looked up at Steve, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You really don’t know what’s going on.”
“And I want to know,” he said. His voice wasn't soft anymore. It sounded like he was suppressing a deep, boiling anger. “How bad is it, Freya? Tell me how bad it is.”
“Please, I need to leave,” I snapped, trying to snatch my hand back from his grip.
I tried to pull away, but Steve wasn't having it. He grabbed me and shoved me back hard until I hit the wall. The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp, and before I could even blink, he was right there, pinning me.
I tried to look at the floor, but he grabbed my jaw and forced my head up. His grip was tight—enough to let me know I wasn't going anywhere.
"Look at me," he growled, his face inches from mine. "I’ve been watching you fall apart for days, Freya. It’s messing with my head. You think I’m just going to let you walk back to that piece of shit ex-husband so he can break you some more?
The way he said it—so blunt and bossy—and referring to Mark as "my ex-husband" again. I looked at Steve, and it was so terrifying. Nobody had ever talked to me like that. No manners, just pure "you belong to me" energy.
I don’t know where that came from, but my eyes filled up, and I couldn't stop it. I stopped fighting him and just let my head drop against his chest. My hands balled into fists against his shirt.
"I hate him," I choked out, the words coming out messy and loud. "I hate him so much. But... Luna, my daughter, Steve. I can't..."
I felt his arms wrap around me, crushing me against him.
"You’re going to have your kid," he said into my hair, his voice sounding like a threat to anyone who’d try to stop him. "I'll handle it. Now quit shaking and tell me. How bad is it? Give it to me straight."
I swallowed hard, trying to get the words out. I pushed back a little, just enough to look at him.
"It’s not just him anymore," I whispered, my lip trembling. "It’s my girl. Today... She told me, 'I hate you.' My own baby, Steve. He's turning her. He's poisoning her against me, and I don't know what to do."
I don't know why, but I ended up spilling every single detail of my life to him. I just kept talking, letting it all out. As I went on, I noticed Steve’s fists tightening at his sides. He looked like he was barely holding himself back, like he was fighting the urge to go out and break something—or someone.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice dropped.
Then he asked for every single detail about my daughter. Her full name, her school, her favorite shows, her colors, and even her favorite toy.
I knew Luna loved Lila’s show, but I kept that to myself. I wasn't ready to say her name out loud yet.
"What do you need all that for?" I asked, but he didn't answer. He just gave me a small, dark smile and picked up his phone to order me some food.
"Enjoy your food, princess," he said as the delivery arrived. He held it out to me, his eyes never leaving mine.
For whatever reason, I felt a wave of relief and peace wash over me. I had no idea what he was up to or what he was planning to do with that information, but I didn't care. Against every instinct I had, I realized I actually trusted him.