Page 25 of Twisted Alliance

“Well, my dear wife…” he said in a deep, mocking tone, “… modern men don’t usually have to deal with wives who trick and betray them on their wedding night and have their husband buried alive under the sand in the middle of a desert.”

She trembled at the visual he painted.

Oh my God.

She didn’t know he had been buried under the sand. It was truly barbaric and shocking.

How did he escape?

She didn’t want to ask because it would only enrage him further and recall the harrowing moments. She kept quiet and watched him in fear.

He didn’t keep her waiting for long. His eyes blazed as he reached for her.

“No!” she gasped.

I will fight him.

She knew she wouldn’t win against him but would not submit to his torture without a fight. But her fight was useless against his strength. She tried to scratch his face, but he gripped her hands and dragged her off the bed.

She let out a frightened sob as he dragged her somewhere. She tried to resist, but he easily pulled and half carried her inside the large bathroom. As soon as both of her legs touched the cool marble floor of the bathroom, she tried to run out, but his hands gripped her arm and dragged her close.

“Stay,” he growled into her face.

She froze in fear and stayed still.

Slowly, he let go of her arm. Without breaking eye contact, he pointed at something with his chin.

“Open the cabinet,” he ordered.

With trembling hands, she opened the large wooden cabinet under the dual sinks.

“Take out the first-aid kit.”

She blinked, not understanding.

“Do it!” he snapped.

Jumping at his order, she took out the box with the words ‘first-aid’ written on it.

“Now open it and tend to me,” he commanded before turning and presenting his back.

She gasped in shock.

His broad back was covered in long, deep cuts. She recognized the knife wounds he had received three days ago on their wedding night. But along with those deep wounds, there were other deep cuts close to the right shoulder that seemed months’ old.

“I want you to clean the wounds and put on a bandage,” he ordered.

“B-but I don’t know how to…” she whispered.

“Then learn,” he commanded.

She waited for a moment, but fearing the consequences, she began to tend to the wounds. They appeared to be stitched close, but the cuts were still raw and swollen since it had only been three days.

With trembling hands, she took a large wad of cotton and poured the antiseptic liquid on top of it before cleaning the wounds. She had to raise her hands and eyes since he towered over her by nearly a foot.

His back stiffened, making her realize the antiseptic must have stung sharply. She froze, waiting for him to turn and hurt her in return, but he remained still.

“Continue,” he snapped. “I don’t have all night.”

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