Page 7 of The Vows He Buried
“It became my matter when your wife was falling,” Lucian replied smoothly, his gaze still on me. “I find I have an aversion to seeing beautiful things break.”
The compliment was delivered with such cool detachment it felt less like a flirtation and more like a statement of fact, as if he were admiring a piece of art. He then leaned in closer, his voice dropping back to that intimate, conspiratorial whisper that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
“I don’t catch people often, Mrs. Vale,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “But you’re not like most people.”
It was a hook, a line cast into the turbulent waters of the evening, and I felt the tug of it deep in my soul. It was a recognition, a challenge, and a promise of something more.
He straightened up, gave a curt, dismissive nod to Maddox, and then, with one last, lingering look at me, he turned and melted back into the crowd as silently and mysteriously as he had appeared, leaving a trail of shockwaves in his wake.
I was left standing there, the throbbing in my ankle a dull echo of the racing of my heart, caught between the cold, furious glare of my husband and the ghost of a touch from a man who had seen the fall, and, for some reason, had decided to break it. The game had just changed, and a new, unpredictable player had just taken the board.
Chapter 6: The Exit
Lucian Thorne’s departure left a vacuum in its wake, a pocket of silence in the roaring chaos of the ballroom. For a moment, the world consisted only of the throbbing in my ankle and the suffocating weight of my husband’s glare. The game had changed, but the board was still a battlefield, and I was standing at its epicenter.
Maddox recovered first, his shock solidifying back into a cold, hard fury. The brief moment of calculation he’d shown for Thorne vanished, replaced by the raw, possessive anger of a man whose authority had been publicly challenged on multiple fronts. His eyes were chips of ice.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice a low, vicious snarl that was meant to make me flinch.
I didn't. I met his gaze, my own expression unreadable. I had nothing left to say to him. My performance was over. My only objective now was to leave.
Before he could press further, Evelyn swept in, a silver-clad Valkyrie ready to manage the fallout. Her face was a mask of gracious concern, but her eyes, when they met mine, were filled with cold fire.
“My dear Savannah, you’re hurt!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying just enough to reach the nearest cluster of gawking guests. “We must get you off your feet immediately.” She was already rewriting the narrative:Poor, clumsy Savannah, overwhelmed by the excitement, had a little fall. Nothing to see here.
Sienna, ever the opportunist, detached herself from the background and rushed to my other side, her face a perfect portrait of worried friendship. “Oh, Vannah, your ankle! Does it hurt terribly? You poor thing.” Her hand fluttered near my arm, a gesture of feigned sympathy that made my skin crawl.
I was surrounded. The she-wolf, the snake, and the lion. A trinity of my tormentors, all performing their roles for the audience.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice cool and steady. I gently extricated my elbow from Evelyn’s grasp. “Just a slight sprain, I think. A bit of ice will do the trick.” I looked past them, my gaze sweeping the room as if searching for an escape route. “But I must admit, the excitement has left me feeling rather unwell. I think I need to retire for the evening.”
This was my out. The unimpeachable excuse. No one could fault the injured, overwhelmed wife for wanting to retreat.
“Of course, dear,” Evelyn said, though her tight smile didn't reach her eyes. “Maddox will escort you upstairs.”
“No,” I said, the single word cutting through her attempt to reassert control. I looked directly at my husband, whose face had darkened at my refusal. “I won’t be going upstairs. I’ll be going home.”
A stunned silence fell over our small group.
“Home?” Maddox repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “Thisisyour home, Savannah.”
“No,” I said again, my voice quiet but unyielding. “This is your mother’s house. My home is with my family. I’d like my brother to take me.”
It was a direct, public severance. A declaration that I no longer considered myself part of this unit. I was a Blake, and I was going home to the Blakes.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Don’t be ridiculous, Savannah. You’re making a scene.”
“I believe the scene has already been made,” I replied, my gaze flicking meaningfully towards Sienna, who had the grace to look momentarily uncomfortable. “I am simply… exiting.”
I turned to leave, but Maddox’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my upper arm like a steel band. “You’re not going anywhere.”
His touch was fire, but not the kind that warmed. It was the fire of a brand, marking his property. For three years, that touch had made me feel owned, trapped. Tonight, it did something else. It fueled the cold star of rage in my core.
Slowly, I turned my head to look at him. I didn’t look at his hand on my arm. I looked directly into his eyes, a universe of ice and fury meeting his. I didn’t say a word. I simply held his gaze, letting him see the absolute, bottomless depth of my contempt. I let him see the end of everything we had ever been. He saw no fear, no pleading, no weakness. He saw a stranger.
His grip faltered. His fingers loosened, the certainty in his eyes flickering with a sudden, shocking confusion. He was looking at me, but he wasn’t seeing the wife he thought he knew. He was seeing the woman I had just become.
I pulled my arm free from his weakened grasp. I took a small step back, putting a definitive space between us. The air crackled. The world seemed to hold its breath.
