LOGINFour more days.The words echoed inside Killian's skull. If he had stayed away at the docks for just four more days, he would have come home to a dead wife.A cold, absolute darkness washed over his vision. The violent beast chained inside his ribs thrashed wildly, demanding blood. Someone in his house had smiled at her, served her food, and watched her slowly wither away right in front of them.Killian did not say a single word. He just stared at her pale, bloodless lips.The doctor recognized the sheer, lethal danger radiating off the man. He quickly backed away from the bed, collected his empty medical supplies, and bolted out the door.The room fell back into the rhythmic, mechanical silence of the machines.Ten minutes later, the heavy door opened again.Marco walked inside. He did not carry a weapon in his hand. He carried a small white ceramic cup.Marco walked directly to the small wooden table beside the armchair and set the cup down. The bitter smell of black espresso mixed
Forty eight hours had passed.The master bedroom no longer resembled a sanctuary. It looked exactly like a sterile intensive care unit. The heavy scent of dark cologne and woodsmoke had been completely erased, replaced by the sharp, metallic smell of clinical antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.A tall steel pole stood at the side of the mattress, holding three separate clear bags of intravenous fluids. A portable oxygen concentrator hummed loudly in the corner of the room, pushing a steady stream of air through the clear plastic tube taped beneath her nose. The sharp, mechanical beep of the heart monitor cut through the dead silence every single second.Killian sat in the leather armchair beside the bed.He had not moved in two days.He had not slept. He had not showered. His black suit jacket was thrown over the back of the sofa across the room. The sleeves of his dark dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick layer of tattooed ink covering his forearms. The top three
Killian stared at him. The words seemed to hang in the freezing air between them."It presents like heavy metal exposure or a slow-acting synthetic compound," the doctor explained quickly, his hands shaking slightly as he opened a plastic package to draw blood. "It mimics severe fatigue and lethargy while it slowly attacks the central nervous system. I need to take this sample to the lab immediately to identify the exact toxin, but we have to stabilize her right now. Her organs are beginning to struggle."Killian slowly turned his head. His pale gray eyes locked onto the motionless body lying in his bed.His wife.Someone inside his house, inside his heavily guarded fortress, had been quietly poisoning his wife every single day while he was away. Someone had slipped a lethal dose into her daily routine—her water, her meals, her medicine.A cold, absolute stillness settled over Killian’s body. It was far more dangerous than anger. It was t
Luna went completely limp against his chest.Her eyes rolled back into her head, her chin dropping heavily against her collarbone.Killian’s large hands clamped down on her shoulders. He waited for her to gasp, to flinch away from his touch, or to jerk awake. She did not move. Her body was entirely dead weight.He looked down at her face. The dim afternoon light caught the sickening, translucent pallor of her skin. The dark hollows beneath her eyes looked like fresh bruises. She was freezing cold to the touch."Doll," Killian said. His voice snapped through the quiet room, a hard, flat command.Nothing.He scooped her up, lifting her fully into his arms. The realization of how frail she had become hit him instantly. She weighed absolutely nothing. He carried her across the thick carpet and laid her down on the center of the massive mattress. Her head lolled to the side against the dark silk pillows. Her lips were completely blood
I had barely seen Killian in seven days. He left the mansion before dawn and returned long after I had already surrendered to the heavy, unnatural pull of sleep. The only proof that he even existed in this house was the nocturnal haunting of his presence in the dead of night.I would be dragged out of a deep, dreamless sleep by the sudden dip of the mattress. The smell of cold night air, smoke, and his dark cologne would invade my senses. The burning heat of his massive body would slide into the bed behind me. His thick arm would wrap around my waist like a steel band, pulling my back entirely flush against his chest. I would feel his face bury into the crook of my neck, his rough stubble scratching my skin as he pressed hot, lingering kisses against the fading bruises he had left on my throat.I never fought him. I didn't have the strength. I would just lie there, frozen in his suffocating, possessive grip, until the heavy lethargy pulled me back under.I slowly pushed myself up from
A full week had passed since the trip to the underground medical clinic.Seven days of absolute, suffocating quiet.I sat on the edge of the massive mattress, staring blankly at the dark hardwood floorboards. The heavy velvet curtains were pulled back just enough to let the gray afternoon light filter into the room, but the faint sunlight did absolutely nothing to warm the freezing chill that had settled deep into my bones.My body was failing me.Over the last week, a deep, bone-crushing exhaustion had taken root in my marrow. It wasn't just the normal tiredness that came with fear. It was a heavy, physical weight that dragged my limbs down, making every single movement feel like I was walking through wet cement. I thought it was just the aftermath of the trauma. I thought my body was simply shutting down from the sheer stress of the forced marriage, the screaming, and the brutal reality of my new life.A soft, hesitant knock sounded at the bedroom door.I didn't have the energy to l
"You confuse me," he whispered, his eyes on my fingers."I look for the brat. I look for the princess. And I see her sometimes. In the way you hold your head. In the way you hate the dirt."He blew the dust off my nail. His breath was warm on my skin."But then I see this."He glanced at my right h
The bruise on my cheekbone had bloomed into a violent purple flower.I saw it in the reflection of the silver platter I was polishing. My face was swollen on one side, the skin tight and shiny like an overripe plum about to burst. My left eye was half shut from the puffiness, the lid so heavy I had
Soft. Like silk. Just like Mama always said."You were vain," he murmured to my reflection. "You thought your beauty was currency. Thought if you looked pretty enough, someone would save you."Carmina cut the last long piece from the back.It fell.I was shorn.My hair stuck out in jagged uneven spi
The chain rattled.It was the first sound of the morning, a metallic scrape against wood that pulled me out of the gray fog I'd been floating in.I woke up on the rug at the foot of Killian's bed. My body was curled into a tight knot, knees pulled to my chest, spine pressed hard against the mahogany







