Page 67 of Ready Or Not

And there’s the pity.

“You’ll always be mine, wife.”

Then, he steps out of the room and closes the door.

36

Love is Madness (feat. Halsey) - Thirty Seconds to Mars

I leave Riley for two days. And by leave, I mean I watch her obsessively on the cameras, and sometimes—often—I sit outside the door as she rages inside. Everything in the room is bolted down. The mirror isn’t breakable—she tried—and the windows are bulletproof glass. I took away anything that could be used as a weapon, and I just watch her. She’s beautiful, even when she’s angry. Especially when she’s angry.

She refuses to speak to me.

Which will simply not do.

I stand in the bedroom across from hers, staring at my phone screen. Like I have twenty times already today, I stare at the prison’s number on my screen. I should just call and have Noel dealt with. I have the people, and I have the money.

But I don’t call. Because what I need is details. I need to know how exactly I’m going to ruin Noel’s life, minute by minute, hour by hour, year by year. I could do anything, but I want this to be personal. I want to know every single thing he did to her so I can pay it back tenfold.

The thought crossed my mind to pay my people to beat the truth out of him. But I immediately shut that down. I refuse to let anyone else hear my wife’s intimate trauma. That’s for me, and me alone, so I can protect her from it.

But Riley won’t talk to me. So, I tried other methods to find exactly what Noel did. I searched police records, I called my contacts, and I cussed Riley’s mom out for dying and taking what she knew to the grave. My contact knew about Noel—he was a low-down member of our organization at one point—but all he knew about was the arrest, and he confirmed it wasn’t because of Riley.

I clench my jaw and slowly put my phone back in my pocket. She just needs to talk to me. I want to shake the truth out of her. My vision has been blurry since I found out, and my body practically vibrates.

I stalk to Riley’s room, unlock it, and push in.

She’s lying on the couch, as she usually is. She hasn’t touched the bed.

“How long?” I can’t look at her. I’m already breaking my rules: don’t do something without thinking.

“Have you been feeding Rachel?” she asks, sounding bored.

My skin gets hot. “Answer the question, Riley. How long did Noel do what he did?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her sit up. She raged and screamed the whole first day, but she’s gone oddly quiet. Now, her voice is calm. “I want to talk to him.”

Immediately, I snap my gaze at her. “No.”

She shrugs. “Don’t worry, Manson, I won’t fuck him. Not that you have a say over who I do and don’t fuck.”

She says it so flippantly that I want to wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze. I want to watch the oxygen drain from her blood until she acknowledges that I’m the only one who getsto touch her. That I’m the one who will punish anyone for daring to do otherwise.

“No?” Riley shrugs. “Then enjoy your silence. Oh, and I want a pack of cigarettes.” She rolls over on the couch and gives me her back. Her pretty, curvy shoulders, waist, and ass.

I stalk out of the room before I actually choke her. It takes a full twenty minutes of pacing the house before I calm down enough for my hands to stop shaking.

It’s nearly five, so it’s time for me to feed Rachel. Not that I want to, but Riley asks about it every time I go into her room. I know she’s doing it to piss me off, but still, I feed her.

Today, I bring down a sandwich on a paper plate. I take a deep breath at the top of the stairs, then head down. As usual, Rachel doesn’t try to plead. She hasn’t cried, not once, but I know she knows she’s screwed.

This time, when she takes the plate, she frowns at me. “Are you both done being idiots?”

I blink.

She just glares at me. Rachel has pretty eyes. They’re softer than Riley’s and quieter. More observant with a lighter, golden brown hue.

“Excuse you?” I look her up and down.

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