Zane walks to a side table where a crystal decanter sits like a trophy. He pours himself a glass of wine, the dark liquid catching the light like blood. His movements are slow, deliberate. Like he has all the time in the world.
He takes a sip. Savor it. Then, he turns to look at me.
“You know, it’s a pity.” His voice is conversational, almost pleasant. “That you decided to be so difficult. We could have done this the easy way. I could have courted you properly. Made you fall for me like any normal woman would.”
My body stands motionless. A statue. But inside, I’m screaming.
“But no.” He drains the glass in one long swallow. “You had to fight. I had to resist. Had to make everything so unnecessarily complicated.”
He hurls the glass against the wall.
It shatters. Shards explode across
