Page 127 of Resisting Isaac
He touches his chin as if he’s thinking. Performative creep that he is. “Say, didn’t your cowboy’s dad already meet an untimely demise? Maybe they’re cursed.”
“Don’t threaten them. And don’t threaten me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you’re the same little boy who cried on the playground when he got picked last for kickball. Wait, no, I can. Because you’re still a whiny little bitch crying about not getting your way. Except now you stomp your feet and make threats.”
The slap comes so fast I don’t see it until the left side of my face is on fire.
He grins, satisfied with the pain and horror I must be showing.
My eyes fill but I refuse to let a single tear fall because fuck him. I clench my jaw shut and grind my teeth together so hard they’re in danger of cracking.
“Aww, don’t cry,” he patronizes. “Isn’t that how you like it, Elena? Rough, like you wanted?” He brushes his lips against mine and I recoil even if it means another slap. “You say goodbye to your cowboy now. Wrap it up nice and neat so he doesn’t come looking for you. Come home, Elena. Before that bastard child of yours is born. We’ll get married, tell everyone the baby was mine all along. We make this right. Or I burn it all down. Then you’ll see just how rough I can be.”
“You’re sick.” Not to mention delusional. I don’t know for certain what mine and Isaac’s baby will look like, but I doubt it will pass for mine and Diego’s.
“No,” he says quietly, gripping my jaw in his hand. “I’m powerful. And if you cry to anyone for help, I’ll know. And so will my friends. Enjoy your honeymoon, little mouse.”
He releases my face so roughly I stumble backward.
He turns and gets in his SUV like nothing happened. Drives away, red lights glowing in the darkness like a demon disappearing. Or going back into hiding.
My legs give out. I lean against the truck, trying to catch my breath, trying not to throw up. Or pass out.
Because the darkness I always felt looming has finally found me.
And not just me.
Isaac.
His family.
Our child.
I have no doubt Diego will make good on his threats.
I have to stop him somehow.
But first, I have to put as much separation between me and the Logan family as possible.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
isaac
Something is up with my fake wife.
She doesn’t look at me when we get on the plane. Not once.
Hair swept up, makeup scrubbed off, the white dress replaced with jeans and a soft sweatshirt. There’s a little shimmer on her cheekbone, a stubborn trace from the ceremony still clinging to her skin. But her eyes? Empty. Distant. Not the woman I danced with under string lights and made love to last night. Not the one who recited heartfelt vows and kissed me like it meant something.
I know she’s a good actress, but this is like flying home with a completely different person.
“Wanna take the controls?” I ask gently, sliding into the cockpit beside her. “Might help take your mind off?—”
“No, thanks,” she cuts in, gaze locked on the horizon. “Just ready to go.”
Okay, then.
The silence between us hangs heavy the entire flight. She doesn’t gaze out the windshield or reach for my hand like shealways does. She just sits there, jaw clenched, arms folded across her chest, eyes far away and avoiding mine.
I don’t push. I get that she needs space, and her family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot.
