~008~ CRACKS IN HIS ARMOR
1364 Words
MARCELLUS
The silence that hovers after I mention my mother is exquisite. Hayden Wolfe looks like I've just buried a knife between his ribs and twisted it slowly. Color drains from his face, and then it floods back with raw fury. It's not nearly satisfying.
I've rehearsed this moment for years. Fantasized about feeding him even a fraction of the ruin he left behind.
Instead, all I feel is bone-deep exhaustion.
"Hayden," my mother-in-law whispers, her voice trembling.
No one moves. The air is thick enough to chew on.
Across the table, Nora's father stares at me. Part of me hopes he'd try to fight me.
"Get out," he says, his voice like ice.
"Honey—" his wife starts.
"I said get out.”
I push my chair back, calmly. "With pleasure."
Nora's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around my sleeve. "What the hell was that?" she hisses, her eyes blazing up at me.
I glance down at her grip. My wife. The words settle in my chest. She's mine now. Irrevocably.
The thought sends a dark, possessive thrill curling through my veins.
I peel her fingers off gently. "You should ask your father."
Then I walk away.
The night air outside is a mercy. Sitting in that room with them had drained me more than I anticipated. I'd barely kept the more intrusive thoughts leashed.
My phone vibrates. I don't need to check it. It's Dr. Adrian, reminding me of tomorrow's session.
The doors open behind me. Of course she followed.
My fiery little wolf.
"You can't just drop something like that and leave," Nora says, her voice pitched higher with frustration.
I keep walking, gravel crunching under my shoes.
"What did my father do to your mother?"
I stay silent. She wouldn't understand.
"What aren't you telling me?" She presses harder.
I drag a hand over my face, refusing to look directly at her. Those eyes are too dangerous right now. Too hypnotic.
A shrill smoke alarm suddenly pierces through the night.
Every cell in my body freezes.
A staff member shouts something about a false alarm, but I barely hear it. The sound drills straight into my skull, dragging me under.
Smoke. Burning plastic. Melting wood. Heat licking at my skin. The screams. The pain.
Fuck.
My lungs seize. They refuse to expand.
I'm back there again, trapped in an inferno that was never meant to be survived. My back burns where the scars pull tight. Ash coats my tongue. I can't breathe. I can't—
"Marcellus."
Her voice slices through the roaring in my head. It's distant at first, then it becomes closer.
My hands are shaking uncontrollably now, clamped over my ears as if I'm a f*****g child.
The alarm finally cuts off, but the silence that follows feels worse. Hollow.
I stumble backward, my chest heaving.
I need air.
So, I turn and stride into the gardens, practically fleeing.
Footsteps chase me.
"Marcellus!"
Stop following me, woman.
"Stop!"
Her hand catches my wrist.
The contact yanks me abruptly back into the present. I spin around, and for one raw, unguarded second, an unwelcome feeling stirs in my chest.
I hate it.
Her expression crumples when she sees my face.
Dammit.
Nora's eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away. She draws closer instead, all her usual fire and sarcasm stripped bare.
There's concern in her gaze now. It chokes me, making me sick to my stomach.
"Marcellus..."
I despise the way she says my name right now. Like she's seeing the wreckage I've kept buried.
Hatred I understand. Hatred makes sense. Pity doesn't.
Pity is dangerous.
For the first time since she walked into my life, Nora Wolfe is looking at me like she's afraid for me.
Somehow that's even worse.
"I'll come for you tomorrow. Have your things ready," I deadpan, fighting the pull of her eyes.
She opens her mouth, but I don't wait. I turn and walk away, the migraine already pulsing behind my eyes.
The black SUV waits at the edge of the estate. I slide into the back seat and let the door click shut. For a long moment I just drag in deep pulls of air that taste like leather and cologne instead of smoke. My hands finally stop shaking.
My phone rings out. Unknown number. I already know who it is.
I answer without greeting.
"I was at your wedding today," the voice says, thick with satisfaction. "The look on Hayden Wolfe's face when you mentioned her... was perfect. Your revenge has officially begun."
I lean my head back against the seat. "Get to the point."
He lets out a low chuckle. "Don't lose focus now. Get close to him. Use the victim card if you need to. Make him lower his guard. Then take everything he owes you."
I say nothing. The migraine throbs harder.
The voice continues. "He stole everything from you. You promised to make him pay, remember?"
I blink slowly, images flashing at the edges of my mind. The bloody orange flames.
I clench my fist tighter. Then I hang up, trying to steady my breathing.
The car glides forward into the night. For a moment there is only the low hum of the engine and the cold clarity of purpose.
Then my phone buzzes again.
Nora: Are you okay?
I stare at the message until the screen goes dark. My thumb hovers.
No one has asked me that in a very long time.
She can't seriously be asking me that after I just humiliated her father. She doesn't know anything. And yet...
Fuck.
...
The front door barely slips shut behind me before I see her. My foster sister, Cece. She’s standing in the foyer like a storm cloud, her notepad clutched in her white-knuckled fingers. Her dark brown eyes sizzle with fury. She shoves the pad towards me, the words scrawled in aggressive slashes: ‘What the hell did you do?’
I move past her without stopping. Her feet stomp after me across the marble. It’s the only sound she can make when she's this angry.
I pause at the base of the stairs, pinching the bridge of my nose. The migraine is splitting my skull in half.
"I know you don't approve," I say flatly. "But my wife will be moving in tomorrow. Can you keep it quiet? My head is killing me."
She hurries around me, flipping the page and thrusting the notepad up again. The new message is underlined twice: "Then I will tell her everything! She doesn't deserve to be used by a psycho!”
I smirk, the expression pulling at my mouth despite the pain. "Go ahead. Tell her."
I don't wait for her reaction. I head upstairs, one hand braced against the wall as I nurse the throbbing in my temples.
In my room, I strip off my suit. My phone vibrates on the dresser, Nora's name appearing on the screen. I ignore it and step into the shower, letting the scalding water beat against my scarred back until the worst of the tension eases.
When I come out with a towel slung low around my hips, the screen shows forty-eight missed calls.
A low chuckle slips out of me.
I'm about to call her back when the phone lights up again with her name. So, I answer.
From the other end comes her voice, commanding. "From now on, every time I call my husband, he picks up right away. Do you understand?"
I close my eyes, leaning against the window frame. Her voice—so full of fire—slides over me like cool silk. Soothing in a way nothing else has been tonight.
"Is there a penalty for disobeying?" I ask softly.
"You don't want to know!"
The corner of my mouth twitches. I gaze up at the night sky through the tall window, the city lights glittering below.
"Why did you call, Nora?"
I expect more concern. More of that dangerous softness she showed in the garden. Instead her voice drops, trembling with fury.
"Who is Rachel Gregory to you?"
I stare out at the sky, the smirk fading as ice settles in my chest.
- Writer
