Ness
I sigh as I watch Lagos leave the bedroom as if he were being chased by a swarm of furious bees.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t know why he’s running from me.
I noticed the way he looked at me.
For a second, I even thought he was going to kiss me.
What truly intrigues me is not knowing how I would have reacted if he had.
Luckily, I didn’t even have to think about it, and that only confirms the conclusion I came to after our short conversation.
Lagos isn’t a bad guy.
I’ve met too many twisted bastards to not recognize one when he’s standing right in front of me.
Is he a criminal? Yes.
A killer? Most likely.
But he respects women.
He respects me.
He could have taken what belonged to him.
I’m his wife, and men like him—who have grown up in this environment of violence, patr
