***TRIGGER WARNING***

This chapter has references to sexual control, sexual assault (in committed relationships). While it is brief (only in this chapter), it is there for a purpose - to shed light on what many woman face, all over the world - including the power imbalance behind closed doors.

MARLYS

It's almost midnight, and I haven't heard a word from Kage. My skin crawls, wondering what he's up to out there. He usually just goes to his friend's place when things get a little heated, like earlier today, but he should've been home hours ago. If I call, he won't answer. Maybe I'll send a text. Just to see if he's alright. But will he even bother getting back to me? It seems unlikely at best.

Staring at my phone, still resting in my hand, stomach twisting in knots, rattling piques my attention. It settles, then starts again. More fervent than before. Frozen to my seat, my thoughts rush back to the SUV. Adrenaline takes hold, freezing me in place. I turn my head toward the door, heart pounding in my chest. The door bangs as if someone is beating their fist against it. Then twice more. The door reverberates on its hinges. Thoughts race through my mind, feverishly desperate. I can't recall doing anything to warrant this. And nothing Kage could have done at school, would either. But I wouldn't put it past Hunter. When it comes to him and his business, nothing and no one is off limits. Or at least that's what I've been led to believe. But no matter the cause, somehow our family has been dragged into it.

What am I supposed to do? I can barely protect myself, let alone my step-son. And what if they have weapons? It wouldn't take much effort to break this door down, even with all the locks. And then what? A single bullet; or a grab of my wrist, and I'd be done for. Hunter should be here. To protect his wife and child. But could he even navigate a volatile danger like that? Maybe if they were vulnerable women, but against a strong male? His daggers are his words; manipulation, the bullets shooting, taking down his opponents. In business, he stands a good chance, but one on one, I doubt it. The only thing keeping them from me, and Kage, right now, is this one inch thick piece of wood and a few pieces of brass tacked onto it.

My phone vibrates in my hand, startling me. I forgot I was even holding it. The message is from Kage, as unlikely as that seems. "Open the door."

Relief unveils me, but my hands still shake. Of course, the deadbolt. Even with a key, Kage couldn't get in. Knowing it's just him, I should feel relieved, but the tension remains, dissipating ever so slowly. I rush to the door, fumbling with the locking mechanism.

"Just a sec," I say, hoping Kage can hear me through the wood, and hoping to soothe his ire before things escalate further.

A heavy groan sneaks through the crack and I'm almost certain he growls, "Hurry up." The door swings open, and I flash a cowardly grin.

"Hey," I say with arms wide open.

"What'd you lock the deadbolt for?" he asks, scowling as he brushes past me.

"Security," I say, but I don't want to scare him by telling him about the SUV this afternoon. He might be a broody teen, but he's still a child. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm fine," he huffs, then stomps up the stairwell.

I sigh, shoulders slumping. At least I tried. I just wish he would let me in. What will it take to get through to him?

Resting a hand on the bottom of the banister, I watch until Kage disappears from sight. The silence is heavier after he leaves, like it's reclaiming the space left behind. Back in the lounge room, I switch off the television, amplifying each little sound it had been covertly concealing. Moving around the room, I close three sets of curtains, but the fourth set stops me in my tracks. They're already drawn. I don't remember doing that. I always open them in the morning. Always. Reaching for the curtain, I hesitate before pulling the thick fabric tighter, trying to find an explanation. Dragging myself over to the kitchen, I switch off the remaining lights, except for the entry, which I leave on for Hunter's return, then head upstairs. I'm guessing it's going to be another late one for him.

Fifteen minutes later, I lay awake, alone in this empty shell of a bed. The room surrounding me is an inky black, save for a few slivers of muted moonlight that sneak through the space where the curtains haven't quite met. With eyes wide, I stare into the abyss above, without focusing on anything in particular. Though the room feels different from earlier today. Less menacing, less foreboding. Just the desolate despair and loneliness that never seems to fade.

Back to the familiar. Melancholy and alone. A warm tear forms in the corner of my eye, then falls, rolling down my cheek and onto the pillow. It's one of many, and I turn over onto my side, facing the ensuite.

Where is Hunter tonight? Is he really tied up in business, like he always claims? Or is someone else keeping his attention, feeding his desire? The thought twists in my chest, sharp and relentless. I've read about red flags like these before, haven't I? The late nights, the secrecy. Any other woman would have seen it by now. Any normal woman. But am I even that anymore? Normal? Or have I become something smaller, someone more willing to ignore the truth to keep the pieces of this life intact?

None of which I will find answers for tonight.

Glancing at the alarm clock, it reads 1 am. Squeezing my eyes closed again, as if wringing out the last of my pitiful sadness. And when there are no more tears left to spill, my heavy eyes fall to sleep.

Two hours later, the mattress dips beneath Hunter's weight, dragging me from a restless sleep. He shifts beside me; tugging at the comforter as he settles in. Feigning sleep, I keep my eyes shut and breath steady. Anything to keep him from noticing me. I must at least appear as though I'm sleeping, so he doesn't bother me. After the day I've had, I just can't. Not tonight.

The mattress seems to jump a little. Then, the hair on the back of my neck prickles, as his whiskey-laden breath breathes heavily against the back of my neck. I want to yell at him, to cuss him out. Tell him to get away from me. To keep his grotty hands to himself. To go to his mistress instead... My heart pounds at each suggestion, almost willing me on. However, I'm not one to take chances. Don't be foolish, Marlys.

Hunter's hand wraps around my hips, rough and possessive, sliding between my legs as he presses hard against my back. I stiffen and hold on to safety for as many seconds as I can manage before surrendering to his ragged game of control. I can't fight it, or him. If I do, he'll just be getting more of what he wants.

Relenting from my rigid position, I soften like a ball of clay, ready at his disposal, sending my mind off into another world. The old Hunter-the one I fell in love with-was a sweet romantic. He opened doors for me, and kissed the back of my hand, like I was the only woman in the world. Even his eyes spoke of his love and desire. Glistening whenever he caught my attention, ever so happy just to be in my mere presence. It's vastly different to now. Sometimes I wonder if I simply imagined that version of him.

"Good girl," he whispers in my ear in a low, menacing tone that makes all the hairs on my body stand on end. There's no need for me to speak. I'm just a toy for his pleasure at this moment. And at least if he gets what he wants tonight, he might wake in a good mood tomorrow.

When he finishes, sweat drips from his face and chest onto my bare back. He squeezes each of my hips, burning like fire before releasing me from his tenuous grasp. He flops onto the bed beside me, satisfied. I roll back onto my side, numb, yet the physical discomfort endures like it always does.