Chapter 133

I woke to find the bed empty and cold. I had fallen asleep in Alex's bed after excusing myself to rest following dinner (due to the medication).

He wasn't there. The memory of my last waking moment here—his hand around my throat—flooded back. I missed his touch. I missed my husband's touch.

My eyes flickered open to see him sprawled on the couch, and my heart sank. He was enormous—literally taller than the couch, his legs draped over the armrest, his hand under his head for lack of space. He'd slept on the couch because of all the times I'd screamed at him to leave me alone when he tried to get closer. He hadn't even used a blanket, despite the freezing room.

I took my blanket and gently covered him, careful not to wake him. I stared at his peaceful face, devoid of frown lines, then jumped as his eyes snapped open.

"Good morning," he rasped.

My heart skipped a beat. "Did I wake you?"

"No. I was already awake."

"You looked asleep," I whispered. "I thought you might be cold. It's freezing in here."

"I tried raising the temperature when I came in, but you started to stir. Guess my wife likes it freezing, huh?" He teased.

My wife.

Oh, dear heart.

"I'm sorry you had to sleep on the couch because of me."

"Don't be. I was working here and fell asleep."

"Okay." I bit my lower lip. "It's pretty early."

It was seven in the morning.

"Um," he mumbled, sitting up and stretching before cracking his knuckles—bruised knuckles. How had I not noticed them earlier?

"Why are your knuckles bleeding, Alex?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, wondering if I should sit beside him.

"Working out back home, and I went a bit too far," he chuckled, as if it were nothing. "Are you hungry? You barely ate last night."

I nodded, my stomach rumbling.

"Want to go out?" he offered. "There's a breakfast place around the corner. We could go."

I nodded enthusiastically, a small smile appearing.

Half an hour later, we were showered, dressed, and walking down the sidewalk.

"No car, no guards?" I teased, walking beside him. "Does Alex King really do mundane things?"

"I figured it would make you happy… to do 'mundane things.'"

"So happy." I smiled. "So, what's the story behind this breakfast place?"

"They have world-famous bagels," Alex grinned. His grin was so sweet, I wanted to capture it. "When Aurora and I were six, and Ronan must have been one, we used to get breakfast here before Dad left for work. Breakfast and dinner together were mandatory until we were fifteen. My parents were big on family time—trying new restaurants, annual vacations."

"Wow," I said, smiling. "That sounds lovely."

"It was," he replied. "I think I had a manufacturing defect—always had a knack for destruction. Loved watching things burn. My parents weren't exactly shocked when I found out what Uncle Damien actually did, or when I wanted to spend time with him during summer vacations. They were terrified for my life, but they didn't want to lose me by trying to control me. Hence, the mafia. You always ask, so there's your answer."

"That's it?" I lied if I said I wasn't disappointed. "A knack for adventure?"

"What did you expect? A sob story?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Some people are just born psychopaths, baby. I wasn't made."

"You're not a psychopath," I said, biting my lip. "You're crazy, but not psychopathic."

"Is that a compliment, cupcake? Should I be flattered?"

I blushed as Alex opened the cafe door for me, a perfect gentleman.

"Looks like you're not the only one who loves this place," I muttered, and he blinked in confusion before following my gaze to his twin sister, Aurora, sitting at a corner table with a man.

The man, handsome with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a rugged look, appeared older than Aurora—six or eight years, perhaps. He wasn't a stranger, judging by my husband's stiffening posture.

"Why don't you order the bagels?" His hand rested subconsciously on my lower back as he pulled out his card and handed it to me. "I'll be right behind you."

I froze under his touch, nodding quietly and hurrying to the counter. There was a surprisingly long queue for such a small place. I could see Alex approach his sister's table; Aurora looked flustered to see him. The man seemed unconcerned.

Alex spoke to them, glancing at me every few seconds, as if afraid to take his eyes off me.

I felt safe here, or at least I hoped I was, but Alex's concern felt good. Warm.

The queue finally thinned, and I stepped up to the counter, only then looking away from my husband.

"Good morning. Can I take your order?" The voice was unfamiliar, but the ginger hair wasn't. The ginger beard matched my kidnapper's. I froze, terrified, feeling his hands all over me again.

Feeling his weight, his erection pressing against my stomach, his hands pinning me down, his lips trying to find mine as I frantically shook my head.

Run, Mia. Run.

Scream for Alex.

Anything.

I couldn't.

16:30 Fri, 19 Jul Chapter 133

I hyperventilated, my lips parted, staring at the man—my kidnapper. My abuser.