Kate's POV
The doorbell went off like a blade dropped through the air.
Every muscle I had locked in place. The bathroom was still sealed tight with Darius's storm, with pine and pressure and something older than both, and my husband was standing on the other side of the suite door.
Darius didn't move. Not his hand from the tile beside my head. Not the weight of his forearm bracketing my shoulder.
"Please," I breathed. "Let me go."
His throat worked once, a slow, punishing swallow. Then he finally eased back.
What came next had the clean, rehearsed economy of a man who had done terrible things on a schedule before. He peeled himself off me, pulled a small black bottle from his back pocket, unlabeled, no branding, and walked a quiet perimeter of the suite. A few fine puffs, soft as a c
