Page 160 of Lawless God

This will only get worse, but I have to say it. “I threw them, didn’t look. But they’re here somewhere! They are.”

He pushes me hard enough to make me stumble and fall face first to the floor. “Find them. Now.”

I go on all fours, ready to get up, but his foot lands on my back, forcing me down again. He presses so hard I can barely breathe.

“I’m g-going to look for them,” I stutter, confused.

“Didn’t I tell you, wife? Didn’t I say if you didn’t want to be the queen by my side, you’d be the slave at my feet?”

No. This can’t get worse. Please, let it not get worse.

“Answer me!” he barks, making my muscles lock.

“Yes! You did,” I answer shakily.

“Right. So here we are. Find your rings. On all fours, like my little bitch. Because that’s what you are, baby, isn’t it? That’s where your place is now.” He presses harder against my back. “At.” And harder. “My.” And harder, cutting off my breath altogether. “Feet.”

Releasing me, he snaps his fingers. “Now crawl.”

And when I don’t, too shocked to even move, too terrified to accept the situation, I hear the click of his gun, and feel pressure behind my head. “I said crawl, little sunflower.”

So I do. I get back on my hands and knees, and I crawl around the room, ignoring my bleeding hand and the pain, desperately looking for the two gold rings I carelessly threw earlier.

The degrading act feels like it takes forever. My vision is limited at this height, my body is trembling in pain, and it makes it harder to move. I’m slow, humiliated, and terrified of his gun that keeps pointing at me wherever I go.

This is worse than it ever was. And the location makes it worse too. It’s one thing to be stuck in Stoneview with him, at his mercy. But this is my house. This is the North Shore. This is my territory. And here I am, still stuck doing whatever he orders.

He’s sitting on my shitty sofa, but Nate looks like a king on a throne wherever he is. Worse, a god on the highest summit, ready to send his wrath down on us mere humans.

Except he’s a god without rules.

He doesn’t listen to the prayers we send his way. He doesn’t care for the worshipers at his feet.

Nathan White.

Ruthless leader.

Cold-blooded killer.

Brutal, merciless, lawless god.

My husband for however long he wishes.

A sigh leaves me when I finally find the engagement ring behind the foot of a chair and thank fuck the wedding band isn’t far.

“Found them?” His voice is a rasp. Contrary to what I thought, I don’t think he’s enjoying this. Maybe he likes humiliating me, but he hates the betrayal.

“Y-yes,” I whisper.

“Bring them to me.”

I close the fist of my good hand around them, and awkwardly crawl back to him, stopping right between his legs. Sitting back on my feet, I look up at him and deposit the rings in his open palms.

“Give me your hand.”

My bloody hand shakes when I lay it flat on his black suit. He looks beautiful in all black. Everything matches. His suit, his glasses, his heart, his soul. Perfect.

“You will never”—he slides the engagement ring around my finger, making me whimper from the pain—“ever”—the wedding band is next, and I bite my lower lip when it grazes against the cut—“take these off again. Have I made myself clear?”

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