Page 43 of Desperate Actions

But not me. All my focus is on her.

My wife.

I hold Aella’s hand.

A small thing, maybe.

But to me?

It’s everything.

Because I’m not just holding her hand.

I’m claiming her.

And every motherfucker who even thinks about taking a second glance?

I see them.

And they see me.

I meet their curious, interested, admiring stares with a look that dares them to test me.

They don’t.

Because this woman? This woman is mine. Even if she doesn’t fully realize yet what it means.

Even if she’s still second-guessing.

Even if she doesn’t understand that I will do anything for her.

Anything to keep her.

To protect her. To own her.

We turn the corner, and she suddenly stops moving.

Her fingers tighten around mine, her pulse skittering beneath my thumb.

“What is it?” I murmur, my voice low, calm.

She looks up at me, eyes wide. Shimmering. Doubtful.

“We’re only a block away,” she whispers.

But I know what she’s really saying.

This place. This night. This moment.

It’s all happening so fast.

She’s feeling shy. Maybe even scared.

Thinking too much.

Second-guessing.

Bracing herself for some imagined aftermath.

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