Page 3 of Blackout: Book Two

“Don’t tell me to worry about my baby and don’t you dare dismiss my concerns when it comes to my husband.”

“Honey, calm down,” he whispers harshly.

“No,” I spat. “I deserve to know what’s going on.”

As the words leave my lips, I realize my anger is misplaced. It’s not Wolf keeping me in the dark, it’s my husband.

People can say a lot of things about my father, they can call him a lot of names, but they can’t discredit him as a husband or the fact that he respects his wife. Through sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, in good times and bad, my father has always clued Reina in on any major life decisions. It’s what a man does when he takes a wife and makes her his partner for life. It’s what a man does when he realizes he’s one half of a unit.

I guess that’s another lesson Blackie was waiting for my father to teach him.

It’s an unsettling truth, and it makes me think he doesn’t see me as his equal, that he doesn’t value me as his partner.

It makes me doubt everything about our marriage.

Every damn thing.

I used to think I was just a job to Blackie. After all, isn’t that how we began? My dad ordered him to protect me and I threw myself at him. I knew he wasn’t stable, that he was still grieving his wife and struggling with addiction, but I didn’t care. I saw something I wanted, and I took it. Then, I got diagnosed with bipolar disorder. My maker tried to warn me loving him was a mistake. She told me he didn’t truly care about me, that I was just another notch on his belt and he’d never love me. I rejoiced when he asked me to marry him and thought we proved my maker wrong.

He did love me.

He did want me.

That’s when I started to believe that with love anything was possible. We weren’t perfect, far from it, but we could overcome anything.

Then she told me I was a trophy.

A shiny toy that made him feel better about himself.

I never allowed myself to believe that until now.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I’ve been confusing love for something else.

Maybe I’m just another addiction.

The judge slams the gavel down, dragging me away from my thoughts. My attention snaps back to Blackie and before I can think better of it, I stand.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at his back.

“Look at me,” I order.

“Lacey,” Riggs hisses, standing beside me. I ignore everyone and drown out all the noise. My maker goes quiet. The whispers surrounding me fade.

“Look at me goddamn it!”

Schwartz turns around.

The judge slams the gavel again.

Riggs wraps his arm around me.

None of it registers, though. The whole world is moving in slow motion and I’m stuck somewhere between Hell and insanity.

“Fucking look at me,” I sob, struggling to break free from Riggs’ hold. “Look at me! Look at what you’ve done.”

“Order in the court!”

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