Page 131 of Seizing Control: Part One

If he could see her arsenal, he’d give her a high five.

She’s definitely planned to send him off in style.

When I turn back to see what the crazy women my wife has claimed as her best friends are up to, I come face to face with an angry duchess. Her cheeks are rosy. Her eyes red-rimmed. I take one look at the darkness in her cerulean gaze, and I know that she is aware of the truth.

My wife knows that Venom is dead.

Someone’s made her face the reality that he’s not coming back.

The wild streak in her that Alex almost killed has been resurrected by her pain.

My duchess balls her fingers into a fist.

She pulls her arm back.

I widen my stance but keep my hands dangling loosely at my sides.

Every tip I taught her about throwing the perfect punch is employed.

Lilianna Mayberry nails me with an upper cut that rattles my brain in my skull.

Then, she jabs me straight in the nose.

My eyes water.

Blood runs down my chin.

When she loads up to take another swing at me, I circle my arm around her waist and sling her over my shoulder. She kicks and screams. Wallops me in the kidneys with hammer fists. I take her punishment as my due while I carry her away from the chaos.

Police sirens scream in the distance.

Smoke billows as Nadia and Toker set fire to everything they can reach.

I find a quiet stretch alongside the funeral home.

Lowering my wife to her feet, I tempt fate as I let her go.

“I want a fuckin’ divorce,” Cherub screams at me. Her eyes are filled with hatred. Spittle flies from her mouth as she slaps me hard across the face before she repeats her demand, “I want a divorce.”

“No deal.”

I expect her to argue with me.

Expect her to tear strips off me.

Maybe punch me in the face again.

I don’t expect my wife to knee me in the balls, then shove me on to my arse when I fold like a deck of cards from the pain. Looming over me, Cherub pulls her wedding band from her finger and throws it in my face. I clasp it to my chest with one hand while I cup my throbbing cock with the other.

“I’m done with you, Carter Hudson.” My duchess spits on the ground in front of me. “You have let me down for the last time.”

“Duchess—”

My strangled attempt to say her name is cut off when she snarls, “Enjoy purgatory, arsehole. I hope Zeke has saved a spot for you.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the view as my wife struts away from me.

That pair of leather pants are a firm favourite of mine.

---