Page 162 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
The next day
My eyes are swollen and raw from a night of tears that never really stopped.
I’m a wreck, all the way through. Not just exhausted, not just undone. I’m hollowed out. Cut to the bone by truths that refuse to loosen their grip—my father’s escort ring, Dorian’s lies, and Lena’s specter, pressing cold fingers to my chest like she’s still here, still watching, still waiting.
Calypso is curled against my chest, purring softly like she knows she’s the only thing holding me together. Her warmth is the only brightness left in this place.
The sheets are a tangled mess from my tossing and turning, and dawn creeps through the blinds without apology, casting long, pale lines across the carpet. The kind of light that doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It just shows up.
And in that moment, I face the truth I’ve spent the last twelve hours emotionally running from.
I can’t stay.
Everything that happened after they realized I was no longer in my office and that I’d locked myself in a guest room crashes back all at once: Dorian pounding on the door, fury bleeding into every syllable of my name as if volume could make me his again.
“I’ll take this fucking door off its hinges if you don’t open up immediately.”
The sharpness in his voice had rattled the hinges, shook the walls, shook me. Every demand felt like a slap, a reminder of how little choice I’d had in this whole thing.
I didn’t answer.
Instead I curled up tighter beneath the blanket, knees to chest, face buried in Calypso’s fur, her tiny body trembling with mine.
“Get me a goddamn tool to unlock this fucking door!”
Then Brennan’s voice—low, steady, regretful in a way that cut deeper than Dorian’s rage.“Give her space, man. Just…let her be for tonight.”
Space.
As if that could fix any of it. As if there was room enough in this godforsaken penthouse to escape the truth.
Last night, I never slept. Not really. I merely drifted in and out of a kind of grief-like trance, feeling the ache throb behind my eyes, in my spine, in my chest. The lock was my only weapon. It had clicked into place like a heartbeat, and it was the only part of me that held.
In the distance, I hear my men’s voices?—
Ruthlessly I shove away that thought.
Notmymen. Not any longer.
The smell of coffee permeates the air, followed by the whirling of the blender. That would be for Brennan’s protein shake.
How familiar the sounds and scents have become. Part ofme, our routine. Generally I’d sit at the kitchen island while Dorian poured a cup for me and splashed in exactly the right amount of sugar-free vanilla creamer.
Now, I force myself upright, though every muscle resists. My body feels weighted, like gravity’s stronger today than it was yesterday.
Calypso blinks up at me, her eyes steady and unblinking. I stroke her head with trembling fingers. “We’re going to be okay.” My promise cracks down the middle, like something that’s been dropped and glued back together too many times.
Then the penthouse feels still. Too still.
Despite her protests, I ease Calypso aside so I can creep to the door and press my ear against the wood.
Dorian’s voice slices through—frayed, coiled with tension.“You told me to back off. How the fuck well is that working for us? This can’t go on.”
Brennan’s answering silence is heavy enough to fill our entire home.
In the distance, a door slams.
For long minutes, I stay where I am, listening intently.
