Page 11 of Beneath Scarred Vows
It was the worst night of my life.
The worst thing anyone could ever experience.
And Ares just made me relive it all.
"Katerina."
A voice pulls me back. My name, spoken low. Firm.
I blink.
I'm no longer in the car.
I don't even remember arriving, but suddenly, I'm here. We head inside and right towards his study. I'm still in my gown and I couldn't be more disgusted with how the night has gone.
Ares stands near the window, his back to me, pouring himself a drink. Completely unfazed by everything.
My hands clench at my sides. "For the record, you may be my husband now, but you don't get to decide how I face my demons."
He doesn't turn. Just takes a slow sip of whiskey. "I didn't decide anything. I simply gave you what you wanted."
I scoff. "What I wanted?"
Ares finally turns, his gaze sharp and unreadable. "Actually, I gave my wife the best thing anyone could give a person - some closure."
I stare at him, realization sinking in.
He doesn't get it.
He watches me, studying every flicker of emotion on my face.
"I gave you someone that took part in your family's death. I handled what should have been handled years ago. And, I plan on doing more of it soon.”
A dangerous pressure builds in my chest. “This wasn't yours to handle."
His lips curl into a slow smile. "Well, I thought differently."
He sets his drink down and moves toward me.
I see his eyes drop to my hands—to the slight tremor in my fingers. A reaction I can't quite suppress.
"Are you angry because I killed him?" His voice is low. "Or because you felt nothing when you watched?"
My tremor stops.
His head tilts slightly. "Maybe you expected to feel relief. Justice. Peace even." He moves to walk around me. "Instead, you stood there, numb. Empty. Just like at our wedding."
The words land like a strike.
My pulse hammers, but I keep my voice steady. "I felt nothing at our wedding because you are nothing to me. But that man?" I take a slow breath. "Maybe I wanted that vengeance one day. Maybe I wanted to be the one to look into his eyes and kill him—but you took that from me."
Ares looks at me. "You had years?—"
"I'm done talking about this." I turn away, cutting him off before he can finish.
I reach for the door, not knowing exactly where I'll go, but before I can leave, Ares grabs my wrist.
His grip isn't painful, but it's firm, aggressive, his thumb pressing into my skin.
