Page 134 of Never Fall for an Angel

A thud sounds from upstairs, and my heart seizes in my chest.

“Fine. I’ll go check on him. If he’s okay, I’ll come back here, and we can cuddle.”

No response.

Carefully, I slip out the door, covering my head as the rain pelts down from overhead. I rush to the lighthouse, almost slipping in my sneakers in the wet grass.

A shiver rolls through me, and I rush inside, shutting the door behind me and letting out a deep breath.

I’ve only been in the lighthouse a handful of times, and every one of those times was with Christian. It’s dark, save for the few dim lights along the staircase, and I make my way up, over the beaten cobblestone toward the second floor.

My heart pounds in my chest, echoing through my brain, until I finally reach the top, finding the door cracked.

“Christian?” I ask, tentatively knocking on the old wood, but no sound comes from inside.

Pushing the door open, I peer around. There’s a bottle of whiskey sitting on the desk, the lid off. One of Christian’s guns is sitting beside it. The one he had just pointed at his brother’s head not even an hour ago.

I step inside, the scent of leather, whiskey, and the forest washing over me, bringing about a strange sense of comfort.

Maybe they took a walk. Why they would take a walk in a storm like this is beyond me.

My next thought is maybe they went back to the mainland, though I know Christian would have said something to me before he left.

There’s a folder open on the desk, and I’m about to pass by it on my way back to the door when something catches my eye.

My heart stalls in my chest, and my stomach drops to my toes.

It’s a marriage certificate signed by Christian Alexander. Cross.

The only problem is that the other signature . . . is mine.

I drop the paper like it’s on fire, backing up rapidly. The walls are closing in on me, my throat constricting with each painful breath. My head spins when the room sways on its axis.

Thisisn’treal.

I suck a deep breath in through my nose, trying to force it out, but it never comes.

No . . . It’s impossible to breathe at all with the heavy presence I feel behind me.

“Mila.”

Awareness slips through my veins, a violent shiver wracking through me.

“You . . . tricked me . . .” I breathe, my voice hoarse. I can’t look at him. I can’t see his face—the same one I’ve fallen in love with all over again—and know that he’s been lying to me for months.

He tricked me.

Horror washes through me at the realization that all this time, I’ve been married to the only man I’ve ever loved, and I didn’t even know it. Horror that he hadn’t even planned on telling me.

I close my eyes, pushing out a ragged breath through my teeth, counting like I learned in the bullshit group therapy sessions my mother made me attend after the attack.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

One . . . two . . . three . . .

Finally, I force myself to turn around and face him. I find Christian standing in the doorway to the office, his expression guarded and dark, shrouded in shadows.

Like a demon watching me from the dark corner of a room.

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