Page 54 of His Vengeful Tradwife

"OK, Dad," I said, waving as he drove off to take my feral children to a safari park for a few hours. "I'll try."

Then I walked over to the barn where my husband was in his jeans and a T-shirt scrubbing out the chicken coop.

"In the mood for some fencing?" I asked.

He turned around, his hands deep in the soapy suds as several chickens pecked hopefully around his big boots, anxious for the corn they knew was in his pockets.

"Of course," he said. "I'd love that."

We went to the storage shed and both suited up in the traditional fencing gear: tips for our long, sharp blades and a helmet for extra safety.

Maverick's shadow fell over me as he carefully adjusted my helmet, and I remembered the first time I had seen him.

I was only planning on doing some college homework at the park, but my eyes were drawn by the fencing club practice. There was one man there. . .

He was very tall, very dark-haired, powerful arms and shoulders, his shirt plastered to his chest in the summer heat.

He looked dark, heated, passionate, and a little bit toxic.

He looked likemine.

There were a few other women there, watching him disable each opponent. Because who wouldn't watch him?

He was gorgeous, magnetic, fucking impossible to keep your eyes off of.

And I walked right up, grabbed a helmet, and faced him.

I won him that day, won every single heated, passionate inch of him.

And I had never had any intention of letting him go easily. He wouldn't be allowed to betray me without paying him back tenfold.

I knew how to get vengeance, how to take everything away from Maverick.

Did I know how to give anything back to him?

We tapped our blades and then circled each other, my husband's big body, broad chest, just as imposing as he had been that first day. I wasn't afraid of him then and I wasn't afraid now.

I made a sharp sideways move and then lunged with my saber.

Maverick had to move quickly to parry my thrust. I jerked my saber back and lunged again, at his other side.

Our blades clashed again, the sound loud and discordant in the quiet of the farm.

Sweat began to trickle down my back as I let my anger and rage flow through me, instead of bottling it up.

"Fuck you, Maverick. Fuck you for what you did! You wanted to hurt me. The person you swore to care for the most."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "What can I do to make it better?"

"Maybe nothing," I yelled viciously, striking him on the side, the blunt tip the only thing between me and slicing open his gut.

I felt like a whirlwind, letting the anger flow through me, letting it crackle through each cell and fiber of my body. It felt powerful,Ifelt powerful. The rage sizzled through my skull, white-hot fury as all my old skill came back to me, lunging over and over again, our blades clanging louder and louder, the sound rising higher and higher.

I saw Maverick meet my eyes through our masks, and he suddenly ripped off his protective gear and knelt on the ground.

I pointed my blade at his throat.

"I yield," he said.

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