Page 33 of Sadistic

"It's just a ring."

"Right. And he's just a guy who happened to know you were in Njal's apartment for exactly thirty-six minutes this morning."

I freeze with the empty shot glass halfway back to the bar. "How do you?—"

"Parking lot gossip travels fast. Especially when Dalla's dragging a drunk Njal to his bike and he's screaming about you being watched." She pours us both another round. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Want to drink about it?"

"Definitely."

We move to a corner booth, bottle between us.

The leather squeaks as I slide in, familiar and comforting.

How many nights have Dalla and I spent here, pretending our futures weren't already decided?

"He's been watching me for five years," I say finally. "Tracking everywhere I go, everyone I talk to. Eliminated—his word—thirteen men who got too close."

Elfe chokes on her whiskey. "Thirteen? Jesus, Rev. That's not love, that's a true crime documentary waiting to happen."

"He broke into my apartment the other night. Or had someone do it. He texted me telling me to lock my bedroom window because the third floor isn't as secure as I think."

"What the fuck?"

"That's not even the worst part." I pour another shot, needing the courage. "He knew about the poetry. The stuff I write when I can't sleep and burn in the morning? He knew about it."

Elfe's quiet for a long moment. "Okay, that's genuinely terrifying."

"But I still wore his ring. Still took his arm when he offered. Still agreed to marry him in two weeks." I laugh, but it's hollow. "What does that make me?"

"Smart," she says immediately. "We all know what happened to Erik and Anders. This isn't about choice anymore, it's about survival."

"Is it though? Or am I just telling myself that because it's easier than admitting I might actually—" I stop, unable to finish the thought.

"Actually what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Rev." She reaches across the table, takes my hand. "At least with Njal, you chose him. This guy chose you when you were fifteen. That's fucked up."

"Everything about this is fucked up." I pull my hand back, fidget with the ring. "But he agreed to let me finish law school. Keep my own place until graduation. No timeline on kids."

"He agreed to that? Just like that?"

"Said he wants a partner, not a prisoner."

Elfe snorts. "Men like him don't know the difference."

"Maybe." I think about how he looked in the yard, caging me against the wall but not quite touching.

All that control, leashed but present. "Or maybe he's exactly as dangerous as he seems, and that's why this might work."

"That's a fucked up thing to say."

"It's a fucked up situation."

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