Page 18 of Crushed Vow
Ethan wasn’t part of this world. And involving him could get him killed.
“Fine,” I said, voice cracking. “I’ll stay. Until you find Vincent.”
Cassian hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
But I didn’t believe him.
“And I want a divorce.”
He smiled faintly. “You’ll get one. Just not on paper.”
I stared at him, confused and wary.
“Just stay,” he murmured. “Let me make up for what I’ve done. Let me rewrite our story before I grant your wish.”
My divorce wish.
My throat tightened, and I looked away.
That should’ve brought relief. But something inside me clenched.
I should want this to be over. I should want to walk away for good. And yet... I couldn’t ignore the ache growing in my chest at the thought of losing him again.
But I could ignore it. I had to.
If I survived without him for a year, I could survive forever.
I turned and walked toward the house.
Cassian followed.
Chapter 4
CHARLOTTE
The moment I stepped into the living room, it didn’t feel like memory—it felt like a trapdoor opened beneath my feet.
The chandelier above gleamed like it hadn’t aged a second. The cold marble tiles whispered of chains and screams.
The stillness of the air—it all felt exactly the same. Exactly like the place where I lost pieces of myself.
Where he’d chained me, leashed me like an animal. Dragged me to the master bedroom and mocked the scars on my body. He called it justice. Said it was punishment—for the things my mother had done.
My breathing turned shallow. My steps faltered. I tried to shove the memories down, to remind myself that I was no longer that girl, no longer his prisoner. But the air thickened, pressing in like a weight.
Then it happened.
The memories solidify, vivid, real.
I’m back in that moment—Cassian’s leash tight, his eyes cold, dragging me across this floor for my mother’s sins.
“Unleash me! Let go!” I scream, my voice raw, my fists pounding his chest, my nails digging into my palms, blood welling.
“You monster, let go! I did nothing wrong!” My sobs choke me, my body shaking, my mind trapped in the past, the leash real, his grip iron.
I kept hitting him—over and over—my fists slamming into solid mass, my knuckles bruising, my screams ricocheting off the walls. But he didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.
Then I heard footsteps behind me. Heavy. Slow. Each step sent a fresh wave of terror crashing through me. My heart pounded like it wanted out of my chest.
