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I see the moment Astor snaps. The moment he turns into a different person. And it is terrifying.

Like a machine on fast-forward, Astor engages in some insane mixture of martial arts and street fighting. He delivers a devastating right hook, immediately followed by a fist to Edgar’s stomach. As Edgar doubles over in pain, Astor grabs his head, rears back, and slams his knee into Edgar’s face, sending his head snapping backward and his body launching into the air. Edgar hits the floor like a dead weight, his face a bloody mush. He’s knocked out cold.

It’s absolutely horrific.

Astor grabs me by the arm and pulls me across the floor, screaming at everyone who is rushing him.

“Stop,” I yell repeatedly at him, pain rocketing up my shoulder.

He spins around and yanks me to him so hard that my head snaps back. “Shut up! This is your fault—I told you not to leave!”

One shoe tumbles off, then the other, as I am dragged outside. I’m vaguely aware of someone yelling, “Help her, help her!”

The limousine is already at the curb when we rush outside. A woman screams when she sees me, and it’s then that I realize that Edgar’s blood is all over me—even my face.

Astor literally shoves me into the back of the car and ducks in after me.

The car peels out, speeding down the road.

“What the hell was that?” I manage to choke out through heaving breaths.

Astor doesn’t answer. I’m not even sure he heard me. His eyes are wild, his jaw locked, his neck flushed and speckled with blood. His chest is rising and falling heavily.

He looks like a monster. An animal.

“You were supposed to come back to me, Sabine.” His threatening tone sends a chill up my spine.

“Astor.” I gawk at him. “We were just talking.”

“Never, ever!” he bellows, and I jump out of my skin. “Never again! You are mine, do you understand? You are mine, and I will treat you accordingly!” He grabs my arm and twists it so hard that my skin burns. “I love you, Sabine. I fucking love you, and it makes me fucking crazy. Seeing you with another man—I can’t. I won’t. That will never happen again. Ever.”

“Astor.” A chilly calmness comes over me. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

We don’t speak the entire four-hour flight home.

Once inside the manor, I hightail it to my room.

Ten minutes later, Astor appears in the doorway.

“I’m done,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “You lied to me when you told me you would never treat me like that again. I’m done with this, and I’m done with you. I can’t handle the crazy roller-coaster mind-fuck that is Astor Stone. Tomorrow morning, I’m going home. Not that you’ll care, right? Because if you did, you wouldn’t treat me like that. Hell, you said it yourself—no one would care if I left.”

Despite the anger, I break into uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Astor. I’m done. I’m done with you.”

And with those final words, I lunge forward, push him into the hallway, and slam the door in his face.

Fifty-Eight

Sabine

I wake to the sound of rain tapping against the windowpane. A gloomy grayness colors the room, matching my mood. A sick feeling of dread washes over me like a thick black cloud.

I’m done. The words I’d yelled to Astor the night before hit me like a punch in the gut.

I wince, rolling my shoulder. If he would have yanked me much harder, he would have pulled it out of its socket.

I lift my head. The armchair at the foot of the bed is empty.

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