Page 194 of Deliverance

Rhys collects himself almost instantly.

A moment later, his entire form is pressing me into the headboard and the mattress. My spine groans from the sharp pain when I try to fight back. The comforter tangles around my legs, knocking the rest of the food down and breaking the plate into pieces.

We struggle without words at first, just fists and kicks, but I’m tied up and weak and small, and eventually, Rhys wins.

“City life doesn’t suit you, Andrea,” he growls into my cheek, his fingers clamping my jaw so hard, I’m scared it’ll snap any second now. “You’re starting to forget your manners.”

My pulse is roaring in my ears. My whole body hurts down to my bones.

Rhys clicks his tongue and releases my face. “I don’t like you like this.” He shoots to his feet and waves at the mess on the floor, fury-red already tinting the column of his neck and spreading to his cheeks. “Look what you did.”

I don’t move, my gaze is trained on a grease spot sullying my skirt. This dress—the one I bought specifically for Valentine’s Day—is ruined now.

How symbolic.

If I hadn’t freaked out when Zander gave me the ring, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.

“Look!” Rhys’s voice jumps up a few octaves and I shudder at the sound. “Look, Andrea!”

I will myself to lift up my chin and study the demolished dinner.

“You never appreciated me, you fucking whore!”

“What happened to you, Rhys?” I shout back, my own rage meeting his.

A perplexed expression crosses his features and for a brief moment, he seems almost confused, perhaps not expecting me to ask questions.

“Where’s the man I married?” I’m smart enough to know I probably won’t see him. I’m just wondering if he’s still somewhere deep down, buried beneath all this anger, or if there’s truly nothing left to salvage.

“You, Andrea.” Rhys doesn’t bother to hide his disgust. “That’s what happened.”

“How is this my fault?” Now I’m curious about his logic.

“How?” he hisses and settles next to me on the bed again, the mattress dipping and wobbling.

My blood cools in my veins at his nearness and I recoil, but there’s nowhere to run.

“You made me this way,” he whispers, licking his lips, his palm skimming over my bruised cheek. “Ungrateful whore.” He draws his hand away and then slams it against my face.

Black dots pepper my vision. I hear a thud and realize it’s the sound of my skull hitting the headboard.

I don’t know how long I’ve been out but when I come to, the snow has stopped and the mess on the floor has been cleaned. There are still splotches of what must have been sauce once and a few crumbs on the comforter, but overall Rhys’s done a great job.

There’s an ache stirring in my belly and below my ribs from the thought that food was wasted.

I’m hungry and terrified and I’m not sure which feeling dominates my senses right now.

Red tinges the corner of my left eye, giving half of the room a strange hue, warm and ghastly, as if while I was passed out, someone splashed the walls and the dresser with gallons of diluted blood.

Then I realize that it’s blood and it’s mine.

My heartbeats speed up, anxiety pulling at me like an undertow, but when I try to lift myself up, sharp pain laces through my neck and shoulder, sending me back to the mattress.

You can’t keep doing this,Drew. You need to find a way out,I tell myself, stressing my name because Andrea isn’t me. She’s someone from my past, someone left behind.

Drawing a steadying breath through my teeth, I coerce my brain to start working.

Rhys has never been a man of reason and our recent interactions only prove that talking to him is useless and that he’s lost his mind completely.

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