Chapter 8 - The Cages We BurnWe locked the heavy iron basement door from the outside, sliding the deadbolt home with a sharp, echoing clack. The sound of Grant’s frantic screaming and pounding fists faded as we walked back up the stairs into the warm, quiet elegance of the estate.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, the white roses from our wedding night still sat on the mahogany dresser, their petals starting to curl at the edges. I walked over to the mirror, unzipped my dress, and let the heavy silk slide down to the floor. I stood in front of the glass, tracing the faint white lines across my shoulders and ribs—the physical map of a survival I had never asked for.
The door opened softly, and Roman stepped into the room. He didn't speak. He walked up behind me, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. He reached out, his warm fingers gently tracing the crescent-shaped scar near my shoulder where Grant’s signet ring had left its permanent mark.
"It's over," Roman whispered, his voice rough with a tenderness he showed to no one else in the world.
"I know," I replied, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart. For three years, I had believed that marrying the most dangerous man in New York was the end of my life. I had thought I was just trading one monster for another. But standing there in the quiet room, I realized the terrifying truth.
Roman hadn't married me for revenge. He had married me because he saw a survivor wearing silk and armor, and he had given me the weapon I needed to destroy my own prison.
May you like
"What do we do tomorrow?" I asked, turning around to face him.
Roman smiled—a rare, genuine expression that transformed his dangerous face into something entirely human. "Tomorrow, Evelyn, we burn down the rest of the estate and build something new."
