Page 59 of Cruel Deception
“This is torture.”
He hummed lazily, pulling the band across his eyes like he was about to nap.
A lunatic. An actual, functioning lunatic.
My eyes flicked to the drawer—the one where I kept the dagger Vincent had given me.
I could do it. I could end this. I could end him.
There were two spiders in this house. I’d kill them. I’d face that fear. One day, I’d be able to live without that terror, and when that day came, there would be nothing left for Cassian to use against me.
I swore it.
I crossed to the drawer and opened it, pulling out the dagger. It gleamed under the bedroom light, heavy and cold in my hand. My chest tightened with every step I took toward the bed.
He was still, his chest rising slowly, mouth slightly parted in sleep—or fake sleep.
I sat on the edge of the bed, dagger in hand.
I’d never killed anyone before.
Would my husband be the first?
I inched the blade toward his neck, fully expecting him to catch my wrist midair, twist it back, slam me to the floor like the predator he was.
But he didn’t.
The dagger was almost touching his skin when he spoke.
“Your birthday is in five days.”
My heart seized.
I jolted back, the knife slipping from my hand onto the mattress. “Yeah,” I breathed.
Of course he knew. He knew everything about me.
I hated my birthday. Hated what it reminded me of.
Three years ago, that night in the club... the night they ruined me.
“I have a gift for you,” he said, voice like gravel on silk.
“A gift?” I asked cautiously. Like...flowers? Or something fucked up like Vincent’s?
His mouth tilted slightly. “You’re my wife. Even prisoners deserve surprises.”
He turned, settling onto his back. “I haven’t slept in three days. Now I will.”
Three days?
Doing what?
My eyes darted to the dagger. I carefully slid it under my pillow, unsure what to do with it now. I wanted to kill him. I did. Or at least I thought I did.
But now I was tired.
So tired.
