Charlotte
I glanced over my shoulder at Elijah fast asleep next to me. It was early hours in the morning when he eventually came to bed. He climbed in behind me, kissed my shoulder, and whispered into my ear, “Are you awake?”
I was but pretended to be asleep. It was so damn hard to do as Saint had said—to keep quiet and not mention anything to Elijah. I wanted answers, and more than anything I wanted Elijah to tell me that he didn’t lie, that Saint had it all wrong. My heart was bleeding for the truth not to taint what I felt for Elijah.
I lay awake that night for hours thinking about what Saint had said. Was I a fool for doubting Elijah? For believing a man I hardly knew over the man I now called my husband?
The same man who kills people for a living.
The same man who kidn*pped me.
