✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

23-Pocket Aces, Hidden Daggers

Anna's pov:

I've been languishing in this sterile hospital hallway for what feels like an eternity, at least two agonizing hours. It's my second wretched visit to this so-called elite hospital since the ankle accident. The nurses and guards keep circling around me like vultures, their insincere smiles plastered on their faces as they repeatedly ask if I need anything. They know who I am because I made quite a scene when we first parked outside, pulling my tantrum like a spectacle.

Jake, my loathsome husband, had the audacity to ride with me on my bike. I still can't fathom how I let him taint my bike with his presence. His arrogance and controlling nature are suffocating, a constant reminder of the shackles binding me to him. The very thought of him, with his dark, brooding eyes and smug demeanor, ignites a fiery resentment deep within me. His touch, his voice, even his mere existence stirs a tempest of conflicting emotions, boiling rage mingled with a bitter sense of betrayal.

I don't know what to make of it. How did I allow this toxic man to invade my space, to ride my bike, the one thing that gives me a fleeting sense of freedom? His presence is a dark cloud hanging over me, casting a shadow on everything I hold dear. As I sit here, the hospital's antiseptic smell mixing with my simmering anger, I wonder how much longer I can endure this charade.

I don't know who Jake's patient is, and I can't even fathom why I'm here, wasting time in the ER. A sharp cramp starts to build up in my abdomen, so I decide to pull out my phone to distract myself. I start scrolling through motorcycle courses, immersing myself in the freedom and excitement they promise. I come across a picture of a stunning bike and can't help but love it. I keep scrolling through Pinterest, losing myself in the images, until a name pops up on my screen: Akira—my mother.

Seeing her name makes my fingers twitch with the urge to ignore the call, but they tremble as I hesitantly answer. I put the phone to my ear, waiting for her to speak. When she finally does, my insides twist and turn with a familiar unease. My relationship with my mother is far from perfect, but I'm trying to avoid causing her pain with my actions. "Too much love leads to violence," Jake once said. He was right. My own capacity for violence is alarming, even to me.

"How are you doing, my dear?" Akira asks.

I sigh, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I'm good."

I hear her chuckle softly. "Congratulations on your casino. I've heard it was aesthetically renovated." I can sense the smile in her voice.

"Thank you," I reply, my tone flat.

"When will the opening be?" she inquires, and I hear shuffling sounds beside her. "It will be the day after tomorrow."

"Ooh. That sounds great." She pauses, and I can almost feel her hesitation. "How is marriage treating you?"

Her question hangs in the air, and for once, I am at a loss for words. How is marriage treating me? The truth is, it's a nightmare, a never-ending cycle of dominance and submission. Jake's oppressive presence, his controlling nature, is suffocating. Our relationship is a toxic battlefield, where love is a weapon and trust is a distant memory.

"I'm managing," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

There's a heavy silence on the other end of the line, as if she knows I'm holding back, sensing the turmoil beneath my calm facade. For a moment, I consider telling her the truth, about the darkness that engulfs my life with Jake, but I can't bring myself to do it. Not now. Not yet.