Page 103 of Seizing Control: Part Two

I regret that question immediately.

“God, no.” The agony in his expression breaks my heart. “I’d never do that to you. Not now I know that Lazarus is the one for you... he’s the better man.” As he flounders for the right words to stop me advancing on him, he turns mean. “I don’t want you to choose... I want you to let go of this bullshit fantasy you’ve built in your head—where the three of us end up livin’ together like some happy family—’cause it ain’t happenin’, so stop pushin’ for it.”

My husband balls his hands into fists. “Fuck!”

The defeat in that word lands like a hammer blow. My heart shatters in my chest. Slash’s diatribe crushes the useless organ to a million pieces. I can’t see him through the burn in my eyes. Chin wobbling, knees like rubber bands, I try not to sob.

He holds up a hand like he’s going to touch me.

When I flinch away from him, his soul dies before my eyes.

The slamming door wakes up Garrett.

My son wails.

I hand him his pacifier, startling out of my misery when Crystal ducks inside my room.

Hope gleams in her gaze as she enquires, “Was that Slash?”

“Yeah.” Wrapping my arms around my middle as well as I can, I swing from side to side while an agony I’ve never felt before pulses through me from head to toe. “Can you... can you—” I gulp as I attempt to expel the words that are caught in my throat. “Watch. Him.”

“Of course.”

Pretending not to notice her worry, I exit my bedroom.

I take the stairs slowly.

Every movement adds to my torment.

My footsteps pick up pace as I head for the back door. I walk around the kidney-shaped pool. Past the gorgeous shrubbery. Reaching the rear fence, I stand on my tiptoes. It’s impossible to see over the railing, to glimpse the house that is my escape from the prison I’m in now. The design and slope of the yard deliberately hides everything from view.

Something I loved until this minute.

Privacy in the middle of suburbia.

At the moment, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m trapped.

Unable to climb the fence.

Not permitted to leave via the front gate.

Dashing my hand across my cheek, I swipe at the first tear that escapes. It’s quickly followed by another one, trails of sorrow rolling down my face too fast for me to stem their fall. The bracelet I wear catches my attention.

The scalpel, in particular.

Lazarus caution rings in my head.

I hold my arm upright, swaying as more pain floods my midsection. My fingers shake as I catch the pendant between them and press the blue sapphire. It makes a buzzing sound, similar to a CB radio connecting to a live channel.

“Lazarus,” I call as loudly as I can. “Lazarus. Lazarus. Lazarus.”

“Cherub.” My husband comes up behind me as I’m shouting at my wrist. “Duchess.”

Slash enunciates his pet name for me with clear apology, although his gaze flares with fury when I whip in a semicircle to evade his touch and shriek, “Lazarus!”

I back away from him with my demons nipping at my ankles.

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