CHAPTER 24: MY SWEET HUSBAND

EMBER'S POV

"That's far enough." Knox's voice is quiet, but the threat underneath is unmistakable.

Gale doesn't seem bothered. He just holds up the gifts, his expression settling into wounded understanding.

"I heard about her panic attack at the dinner," he says, and his voice is so gentle it's almost worse than anger. "I know what helps her. I just wanted to make sure she's okay."

"How thoughtful." Knox doesn't move. "Breaking and entering to deliver... what exactly?"

"Her favorite macarons. Her anxiety medication." Gale looks past Knox to me, his eyes soft with concern. "I've known Ember far longer than you have. I know what she needs during these episodes. Do you?"

The dig lands exactly where Gale intended. I know her better than you ever will.

"What I know," Knox says, "is that you're in my home uninvited at three in the morning. What I know is that security had to physically restrain you. What I know is that this constitutes breaking and entering, and I have every right to have you arrested."

"I wasn't breaking in." Gale's voice stays calm, reasonable. "I was knocking. Persistently. There's a difference."

"Security footage says otherwise."

"Security footage can be interpreted many ways." Gale shifts his attention back to me. "Five minutes, Ember. That's all I'm asking. There's something you need to know. Something private."

"She doesn't need to know anything from you," Knox says.

"Shouldn't that be her choice?"

They both look at me.

I should say no. But there's a part of me, some broken piece that's still trained in appeasement, that needs to understand what game he's playing.

And there's another part, smaller and more shameful, that isn't sure if Knox actually knows me. If this isn't all some calculated performance on his part too.

"Five minutes," I hear myself say.

Knox's jaw tightens. "Ember—"

"I can handle him." I don't know if that's true, but I need it to be. "Five minutes. You'll be right outside."

Something passes across Knox's face. Disappointment, maybe. Or concern.

But he steps aside, and Nathaniel positions himself outside the guest bedroom door as Gale and I step inside together.

The moment the door closes, Gale's expression shifts into something softer. Something wounded.

"I've been worried about you," he says, offering me the pink box. "You left without any of your things. I wanted to make sure you had what you need."

I don't take the box. I don't move toward him.

"What do you want, Gale?"

"To talk. To see if you're okay." He sets the box on the dresser, then the amber bottle beside it. "Your medication. I know you ran out before you left. I know how bad the panic attacks get without it."

"I don't want anything from you."

"I'm not asking you to want anything." His voice is patient, gentle, the voice he used when we first dated, when I thought he was kind. "I'm asking you to let me care about you. Is that so terrible?"

"After everything you did to me? Yes. It is."

He sighs like I'm being difficult. Like I'm the one who doesn't understand.

"I know I wasn't perfect, Ember. I know our marriage had problems. But I never stopped caring about you." He moves closer, and I force myself to stand still, to not flinch. "I just want to make sure Knox is treating you well. That you're safe."

"I'm safer with him than I ever was with you."

Something flickers across his face. A crack in the performance.

"Are you?" He tilts his head, studying me. "You've known him, what, two days? Three? And you're already sharing his bed, wearing his clothes, letting him parade you around at Summit events like a trophy."

"That's none of your business."

"You're my wife. Everything about you is my business."

"Not for much longer."

He chuckles softly, like I've said something naive.

"The divorce papers haven't been signed yet. And even when they are, I'll always care about what happens to you." He reaches out like he's going to touch my face.

I flinch so hard I stumble backward. Something flickers across his expression. Hurt, maybe. Or the practiced performance of hurt.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I never did."

The lie is so enormous it takes up all the air in the room.

"You grabbed me by the throat," I say, and my voice is shaking now. "You threw things at my head! You shoved me into walls and called it an accident. You made me think I was crazy for being afraid of my own husband."

"I was stressed. Work was difficult. You know how the pack and my father can be."

"That's not an excuse."

"No," he agrees, and his voice is so reasonable, so understanding. "It's not. And I'm sorry. I truly am. But I'm not the monster you're making me out to be, Ember. And neither is the man you're running to any kind of saint."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Gale's expression shifts into something almost sympathetic.

"Has Knox told you what happened to his ex-mate? Has he told you the truth about how Celeste died?"

My blood runs cold.

Knox told me she betrayed him with his best friend. But not the details of her death. Not the how. He said I didn't want to know, and I believed him because I was too afraid to push.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Gale's voice drops to something intimate, something that sounds like genuine concern. "You've wondered, haven't you? Why he won't tell you? Why does no one ever mention the Lycan King’s ex mate?" He moves closer. "The man you're sharing a bed with is a murderer, Ember. Has he told you that? Do you know you're sleeping with someone capable of killing his own mate?"

"You're lying."

"Am I?" He tilts his head. "Ask him. Ask him what really happened to Celeste. Watch his face when you do. And then tell me I'm lying."

I want to argue. I so badly want to defend Knox. But the truth is, I don't actually know. How much do I actually know about this man except that he gives mind-numbing orgasms?

Knox refused to tell me how she died. But I rememer the flash of darkness in his eyes from our talk earlier. And now Gale's words are sitting in my chest like poison, spreading doubt through every vein.

"I'm just looking out for you," Gale continues, and his voice has turned even softer, almost loving. "I still care about you. Maybe not the way a husband should, but you've always been important to me. I don't want to see you become his next victim."

"We're done here." I turn toward the door.

His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. Hard. Yanking me back toward him with the kind of casual violence I remember from our worst moments.

"I'm not finished talking to you."

Something in me breaks open.

Pure instinct takes over before my brain can catch up. My free hand connects with his face in a slap that cracks through the room violently. The sound is enormous. The impact snaps his head to the side.

My palm stings.

And for a moment, we both freeze.

In four years of marriage, I never fought back. I flinched and cowered and made myself small. I absorbed his violence like it was something I deserved.

But I'm not that person anymore.

Gale's expression shifts from shock to rage, his hand rising toward my throat, and I realize with cold clarity that I've just made everything worse.