Page 100 of Sins of the Hidden

V Anson.

He'd stolen my name.

"My Dad's a lawyer. I can get him to annul us." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, a desperate grasp at some escape route. V ripped the paper from my hands. His hand shot out, fingers digging into my chin with bruising force, pulling my face to look up at him. I could feel my bones shifting under the pressure, jaw creaking in its socket.

"We fucked." V's voice dropped to a whisper, eyes darkening as he leaned closer. "You told me it was your fantasy. You just didn’t wake up." His fingers traced my collarbone. Before I could speak, his next words sliced through me, freezing my breath for a completely different reason. "If you get your parents involved, I'll kill them."

"Y-You wouldn't." But even as the denial left my lips, I knew it for the lie it was.

His fingers pulled at my chin. Bending slightly so our faces were closer. "My bat loves blood, wife. Your parents are no exception."

Tears distorted everything into shapeless colors, tracking down my cheeks to collect at the corner of my mouth. It wasn't just a threat—it was a promise.

This wasn't the V that I was learning to love.

This was a monster.

He cocked his head to the side. His finger brushed over my bottom lip, the pad of his thumb rough against the sensitive skin, pressing down until I tasted blood. "You said your dream was to get married." At that moment, I saw two futures with perfect clarity: one where my parents lived and I remained trapped in this nightmare, and one where I escaped but carried their deathson my conscience forever. There was no third option. No rescue coming. No way out that didn't end in someone dying.

So I'd stay. I'd wear the ring. I'd smile if I had to. Because their lives were worth more than my freedom.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Shaking breaths followed closely after, my lungs struggling against the vise of panic squeezing my chest.

His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing away a tear. "I made your dreams come true."

His gaze held, truly believing we shared something. He pressed his forehead against mine. "I couldn't risk losing you," he murmured. "People always leave, but you won’t."

His voice made my stomach clench—this wasn't an act. In his fractured mind, this was love.

"Answer me." His voice vibrated against my cheek, the demand soft but unmistakable.

Opening my eyes, I shook my head. I broke free from him, scrambling back on the bed, trying to put distance between us, but he moved so fast it was almost a blur. Grabbing my bare ankles, his grip shackled me like iron restraints. He dragged me to him, lying his heavy body on top of mine, crushing the air from my lungs.

V's massive hands grabbed my wrists, pinning both of my hands above my head with one of his fingers easily encircling both my wrists. His free hand moved to my neck, placing it there with a little pressure, just enough to remind me how fragile the trachea is.

"Answer. Me." The words were a growl, each syllable punctuated by a slight increase in pressure. Small dots entered my vision, black fireflies dancing at the edges of my sight. A cry left me.

The sound made him pause. His eyes searched my face, head tilting to the side. Without warning, he released my throat andpulled away, his weight lifting from my chest. I gasped, dragging air into my starved lungs as he rose from the bed, watching me with that hollow stare.

V turned toward my closet and stood, throwing all my dark clothes into a pile on the floor, methodically dismantling my identity piece by piece. Each garment he removed was another boundary erased.

"W-What are you doing?"

He pulled another black top off its hanger, the fabric making a soft tearing as he tore it in half, dropping it to the floor like garbage. "Bright colors only."

Almost everything I owned was some shade of dark that I'd found in thrift stores. Black shirts were slimming, and my outfit of choice was a black undershirt paired with an oversized button-up.

He looked back at me, his eyes traveling the length of my body. "You've been wearing bright colors lately."

"Because I was happy." I don't ever see myself being happy again, not with him, not with the weight of this marriage certificate.

"We're happy together."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I would never be happy with him again, that he had destroyed any chance of that when he drugged me and forced me into this mockery of a marriage, but I held it in. Survival instinct finally kicking in. "Ruining my clothes doesn't make me happy."

Despite that, he carried on ripping my clothes out of the closet, fabric tearing as he yanked items from hangers.

Bending with a wince from the soreness between my legs, I swiped a dark crew neck with sweatpants to match from the pile on the floor. Standing back up, I slipped them on quickly, a pathetic attempt at reclaiming some control over my body. Making my way quickly to the front room, my heart poundedas he rushed behind me, footsteps heavy. My hand was on the doorknob, ready to open it, desperate for fresh air, for any escape from the suffocating presence behind me, when he put his hand over mine, pushing me back from the door.

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