She was lost and so was he.
Who knew that two broken hearts can connect to one.
Arabella's world has been rigged since the day she was born. Her fate had been decided for her much longer before she even had been conceived in the womb. So it came as...
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Blood.
Blood.
Blood.
The stench of blood assaults my senses, nearly knocking me out. Still, I shake my head, flutter my eyelids, and fight to stay awake. I can't sleep. I can't give him the freedom to do whatever he wants to me. I've already lasted a year—what's a couple more days? Even if it's only one more week, I'd rather delay the inevitable as long as I can.
My head thumps against the cold wall, the pounding in my ears matching the rhythm of my skull splitting open from the inside. It hurts more with each day, until it's the only thing I hear. My ribs burn with every breath, sharp and shallow, and I whimper softly as I shift to relieve the pressure from my throbbing shoulder. My arms hang limp beside me.
A hand touches my cheek. I flinch, clench my eyes shut, and try to erase the feel of his skin on mine. I want it gone. I just want him to leave me alone. I can feel the tears stinging, and I swallow hard to push down the sob trying to crawl up my raw throat.
"Hello, my future wife," he says, voice smooth and sickening. "How are you doing today? Ready to speak now?"
I stay silent.
"Well," he drawls, "you haven't eaten in three days like we planned, and you're starting to look much better than before. You're losing weight." He chuckles, sliding a small plate of food in front of me. "Today you can have a small portion. Wouldn't want you dying on me."
I don't move. He knows I'm not asleep. I'm awake. I'm always awake.
"Eat it," he says, sharply this time. The amusement in his voice vanishes. But fear—the fear he worked so hard to carve into me—has changed. Over time, it's evolved into something else. It reminds me of all the moments I didn't fight back. And now it's the backbone of the woman I've become—confident, unbreakable, and burning with defiance.
So I straighten up despite the agony that flares through every inch of my body. I grin at him, even as the wounds on my body scream at me not to move. The blood trickling from my forehead cools my feverish skin like rain on fire. I spit the blood from my mouth onto his spotless black shoes. Then I pick up the pathetic plate with its single slice of bread and cup of yogurt, and I whip it across the room without hesitation.
"You know, Nicholas," I say calmly, ignoring the fury boiling behind his eyes, "you need me. You've made it your life's mission to have me by your side, no matter the cost. But me? I only have a few things I'd die for. My family. My friends. I'd do anything for them." I lean forward, fire in my eyes. "And now that you've taken me from them, I have no real reason to live. So I'd rather starve before I ever—ever—stand beside you as your fucking wife."
I watch as the vein in his forehead bulges. He steps forward, furious. His hand cuts through the air—his rings slicing open my cheek, adding to the blood already coating my face. My head jerks to the side. I grit my teeth and, using the arm that isn't numb, tilt my chin back to meet his gaze.
