LIANA
The engine roared, a mechanical wail that swallowed my pleas whole. He drove like a man longing for death, the car slicing through the midnight air so fast the surroundings outside blurred into a streak of shadows.
I shouted, my fingers white-knuckled against the dashboard, but he wouldn't listen.
The tires shrieked as he skidded into the Packhouse driveway. Before the engine had even died, the door was ripped open. He didn't speak. He didn't have to.
His fingers clamped around my wrist like a shackle, the heat of his skin searing mine. He dragged me behind him, not aggressive or rough, but gentle and slow. The heavy door of our bedroom slammed shut with a finality that made the walls tremble.
He spun me around, pinning me against the door. When our eyes finally locked, my brea
