Her Deviant Husband

Chapter 50 (M)

Reyansh's pov.

Something was wrong.

I could feel it in my gut, a gnawing sense of unease that I couldn't shake off, no matter how hard I tried to reason with myself. Athira was hiding something from me—something far bigger than the usual secrets she tried to keep. 

This wasn't the petty kind of hiding. Like the ones where she snuck from bed every night to have sweets or steal one of my shirts from my closet. No, this felt... dangerous. 

Why had she asked me to teach her how to shoot? She hated violence. Of any kind. I knew that from her reactions after resorting to violence. She remained shaken more often than not. In a state of complete haze and terror. 

There had been an urgency in her tone when she asked me to teach her how to shoot just now... that unsettled me more than I cared to admit. I couldn't shake the image of her standing there, her gaze too intense, too vulnerable. Those almost teary eyes, the ones that always seemed so full of strength and conviction, had been different this time. They were filled with  something I couldn't reach.

I couldn't understand why I was so restless. My emotions felt tangled, like a knot I couldn't untie, each thread leading me in a direction I couldn't follow. There was no reason for me to feel like this. I was only going to be gone for a maximum of twenty hours—no different than when I went to handle business, nothing that should have caused this kind of reaction.

So why did it feel like the world was shifting beneath me?
Why did I suddenly feel like she was slipping further away again, and I had no idea how to stop it?

Her fingers curled tighter into my shirt, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Come back to me without a single scratch, okay?"

The way she said it—soft, almost like a pleading order—sent a sharp pang through my chest. I searched her face, trying to understand, but she only held my gaze, something unreadable flickering in those eyes. Something she wasn't saying.

I didn't like it.

I tilted my head slightly, my eyes locking onto hers, searching.
"Promise," I said, my voice gentler now, steady.

Tilting my head, I brushed my nose against hers before dipping lower, pressing my lips to the curve of her neck. I felt the way her body tensed under my touch, the way she let out a slow, uneven breath. My lips lingered, savoring the warmth of her skin, the faint shiver that ran through her as I kissed her again, just beneath her jaw.

"Promise me something as well," I murmured, my lips still hovering over her pulse.

Her fingers dug into my shirt, but she didn't say anything.

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again, my hand sliding up her arm, fingers tracing her skin with deliberate slowness. I felt the slight tremor beneath my fingertips, the way her breath hitched like always, but she didn't pull away.

"You won't use that gun," I said, my voice quiet but firm, each word deliberate. "Not unless you absolutely have to."

Her throat worked as she swallowed, and for a second, I thought she was going to argue. Her lips parted, a flicker of defiance flashing in her gaze, but I didn't let her speak.

My thumb brushed over the curve of her jaw. My other hand settled on her waist, my grip firm, steady—anchoring her to me just as much as I was anchoring myself to her.

"Athira," I whispered, my forehead nearly touching hers. "I need you to promise me this."

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into my shirt, knuckles pale. Her body was tense, as if she were bracing herself—holding something back. Something that burned in her veins just as fiercely as the emotions swirling in her eyes.