He better not drop it. We’d both be dead if Marco had any inkling on how badly I lied to him.

And Hudson’s anger would be that much easier to weather than my ex’s.

Marco’s arm slithered around my waist, pulling me into him like it was a place where I’d always fit. But that wasn’t quite the reality. I used to fit against him, once. I used to trust him. And becoming a Ranger when Archer knew my history was the toughest damn thing I’d ever had to do.

Then he sent us on this godforsaken mission and I knew–I knew– the man hated me with everything in him.

Because he just signed my death warrant sending me right back in, and probably Hudson’s, too,. That was the part that hurt, the trust we built inadvertently, despite me pushing him away as much as possible.

Okay, so I did a seriously shitty job of pushing him away because being in Hudson’s arms was nice. And no one talks about how good nice is until it’s ripped away. All the things you don’t see and appreciate when you should, and all.

Every one of my lies to him, to his face, by omission-–they all danced between us while Marco breathed down my collar like he wanted to rip of my clothes and fuck me right in front of Hudson just to prove a point.

Knowing Marco, he probably would.

I saw the moment the penny dropped for Hudson. It wasn’t pretty and I swore I heard the big man’s heart break from across the room, right as Marco’s hand plunged into the neckline of the dress I should never have worn and mauled my breast without permission.

“I remember buying this dress for you,” he murmured into my ear, squishing my flesh like a stress toy.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be somewhere else. A beach on Tijuana, maybe. Back in bed with Hudson. On cue my nipple hardened and Marco let out a truly horrendous groan that flushed me with embarrassment and doused my arousal all over.

“Don’t touch me.” I jerked away from him, fixing my dress and cast my gaze anywhere except at Hudson.

I’m sorry. I should have said something.

I should have said a lot of things.

Archer gave us a hellbent, two day shunt across the country to knock out the bugs. I used my time poorly, ignoring Hudson, cradling my hurt and fear to my chest in the most unhealthy way possible.

And look where that landed us.

Not just me, but him, too.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, still daydreaming about the cottage behind the beach.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you will be,” Marco snarled, fisting my hair and wrenching me back. “Or didn’t you want to give your new boyfriend the show we planned?”

I winced, breathing hard through my nose to control myself. “There is no fucking we, Marco, and there hasn’t been for a very long time.”

He growled, snatching my hand in front of his face. “My ring used to be here. Mine, Skye. You understand no piece of paper can take that right from me.”

I glared at my ex, my mouth set in a hard line and watched the intent to murder enter Marco’s eyes. This was it, then. The reason I left him before I understood how dirty the man was and not in all the right ways. Why I walked away when he was across the country, trafficking women and drugs I didn’t know about at the time and requested regularly to help put to bed once I became a Ranger.

I was told I was too close to be put on the case, and his name slipped to the bottom of the pile. One man gave me the chance, knowing I didn’t want to work for him, and look how well my wish granted moment was turning out.

Just like history repeating itself, Marco raised a hand and slashed it across my face.

The move was so familiar I didn’t flinch, didn’t even feel the burn as my head snapped back until my neck kinked with the sharp action. Then the pain set in, and with it came the all too once commonplace fear that froze me in place.

“Aw, crying already?” Marco mocked me as he swiped his fingers across my numb cheeks.

“Am I?” I blinked at him, not even trying to pull away. Nausea rose up my stomach, and I fought the bile back the moment it bit my tongue. That I did have control over, if nothing else. If Marco was going to kill me tonight, I didn’t want to puke on his shoes and give him the satisfaction of staining my dignity along with ending my life.

“I told you, mine,” he gloated, lording over me.

All just the usual day for me. Three years of relative freedom disappeared with a blink, but not before Hudson turned the tables and put his life before mine.

“But she’s not yours,” he said, that goofy smile still curling into his voice though I wasn’t looking at him. “She’s mine. Ring on her hand says so.”