The silence pressed against me long after the door clicked shut. It wasn’t the kind of silence that soothed, it was thick, restless, filled with the memory of his eyes and the ghost of his almost-touch.I curled my knees to my chest on the couch, staring into the dim safehouse. The shadows stretched long across the wooden floor, the air heavy with cedar and dust. Every corner felt foreign, every breath shallow.But the strangest thing of all was that the danger outside didn’t scare me half as much as the man who’d just left the room.Kenneth Diego. My husband. My punishment. My protector. My cage.I pressed a hand against my chest, willing my heart to slow. Not if he’s in it with me. The thought had slipped into my mind like a treacherous whisper, one I should have crushed before it grew roots. But it lingered, no matter how hard I tried to silence it.The floor creaked faintly outside the door, pulling me back into the moment. His footsteps—steady, measured, purposeful. I imagined hi
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