Page 37 of Good As Hell

“Great job, little man.” Comes the deep baritone each time as he watches him intently. I can feel his eyes on us, but I don’t dare look up, fearing what I may see.

“Story?” Ayaan asks Hassan over a heavy yawn much later, after more play and songs.

“Yes.” Ayaan is already curling up beside him as I go to get the book he likes most, The People Who Could Fly, my sister, Song gifted to him when she came for the wedding.

“The Beautiful Girl Of The Moon Tower,” Hassan begins, telling the Black Folktale story. Ayaan almost manages to make it to the end of the tale before he drifts off to sleep.

“I’ll take him.” I offer, moving to take my baby.

“I have him,” Hassan says, sounding cold and aloof. I guess family time did nothing to ease the trauma of the events of the day or whatever has him acting so mean to me.

I don’t take it personally. The devastation he must have witnessed would have shaken even the toughest person. I’m still not over seeing that child pulled from the rubble.

I follow, giving him the space he seems to need. Ayaan seems to be his safe place. I understand why that isn’t me, though knowing that does nothing to soften the blow. I chalk it up to the little girl in me hoping for the family she deserved but was only served betrayal in the worse way.

“Good night, my love,” I whisper, leaning over Ayaan after Hassan says his goodnight and blessing over our son.

I place a soft kiss on his brow. Gazing down at his angelic face my heart squeezes thinking again of the child I saw earlier.

Entering the living room area, I’m once again at a loss about how to approach this man who seems to be akin to a lion with a thorn in his paw, only I am the thorn.

His gaze tracks me as though I’m prey after I make the decision to join him in the seating area instead of staying in our bedroom.I’ve never been a coward and I won’t start being one now.

I sit on the couch a little down from him, wishing not for the first time this palace had alcohol but knowing my anxiety would probably have me sliding into being a stone cold drunk if liquor was available.

“I’m so sorry about everything you’ve had to endure today,” I say to the closed off expression of my husband that greets me.

He remains stonily silent just regarding me with a coolness that is so unsettling I have to make myself stop from squirming like an ant under a magnifying glass being held by a malicious child under the sun.

“Okay,” I say rising. “I just wanted you to know I was here if you needed to talk about it.”

Stepping away from the glacial coldness of his response, I’m proud of myself for not completely collapsing from his awful reaction.

“Like you give a fuck.” The viciously snarled words stop me cold.

If I had the sense God gave a cricket, I’d take my ass right on out of here. Instead, I whirl around, forgetting for a moment how utterly I’m at his mercy.

“What?” Sputtering with confused indignation, I step back over to him. “I waited all day for word. Fi and I were glued to the TV for news updates. W-we saw a little boy not much older than Ayaan being pulled from the rubble.” The words come out on a sob.

Hot tears spill down my face. I cover my face. In that moment, I want nothing more than for his strong arms, to close around me, to hold me, letting know everything will be okay. I need him so much, but I realize in seconds there will be no comfort coming from him.

“Hm, your tears are touching, wife. Yet still, after seeing all that fucking tragedy of families being buried alive and children being orphaned, you still find the time to try to rip ours apart.” He may as well have slapped me. The viciousness of his word cut me like shards of glass.

“What are you talking about?” Stunned at his words, I dash the wetness from my face, turning to confront this braying beast towering over me with the wrath of hell in his eyes.

“You trying to leave me and take my son. I told you what would happen if I caught you.” His words are like sharp daggers of an icy blade slicing into me.

I back up, but he snatches me, drawing me tightly into his much larger form. His body pulsates with rage. His eyes are gold and jade ice cutting at every emotion he sees playing across my face.

“I don’t know what you talking about, Hassan.” I can tell the moment he realizes the untruth of my words — the same moment I recall something Fi said in the midst of our conversation earlier — something I didn’t respond to so caught up as I was with the turmoil I was seeing on television and the revelation about her knew situation with Fariq. She mentioned working with Prosper to get us out of here. She was conflicted because of the new relationship she was in.

Fuck my life.

Impossibly, his face hardens more a split second before a sinister smile spreads across his face. “I was going to kill that little busybody for meddling in my fucking business, but it seems she’s already ran afoul of The Takeda and got snatched up for her efforts. Your little friend won’t be able to help you leave me. She’ll be busy with her own training with the new head of the Tatsumoto Yakuza Clan.”

His hand shoots out, clasping my throat. Slowly he draws me up to my tiptoes, his hand steadily tightening as he forces me to face his tiger jade gaze.

“You will humble yourself. You will be the mother of my children. You will be the consort I require or I will break your fucking neck. The only reason I haven’t at this point is because you could be with child.”

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