Chapter 9
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, but these weren’t tears of weakness. They were tears of rage, of mourning for the grandfather I’d never known, for the life that had been stolen from me.
Vincent’s fingers traced the outline of an old photo he pulled from his jacket – me as a baby, cradled in my grandfather’s arms. My heart ached at the sight.
“I’ll do the same for you, Cheryl. Move heaven and earth.” Vincent’s voice dropped low, dangerous. “The Rivers took
everything from you. Let me help you take it back.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, the musty air of the shed pressing in. Moonlight filtered through gaps in the wooden walls. “Why would you do that for
me?”
“Because you deserve justice.” He crossed
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the space between us, his presence filling the small shed. “Let me make you mine, and together we’ll destroy them. Every last one who hurt you.”
My breath caught. The raw intensity in his eyes made my pulse race. This dangerous. man, wanted to avenge me. To tear down the family that had imprisoned me in a cage of false gratitude and manipulation.
“The Rivers…” I swallowed hard. “They have connections, money, influence.”
Vincent’s laugh was dark velvet. “And I have more. They won’t see us coming until it’s too late.”
“Us?” The word felt foreign on my tongue.
“Yes, us.” His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “Say yes, Cheryl. Let me show you what real protection feels like. What real
devotion looks like.”
The warmth of his touch sent electricity through my skin. Here in this broken–down.
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shed, with dust motes dancing in moonbeams, a man who commanded. empires was offering me everything I’d been denied – power, revenge, belonging.
“I could destroy them?” My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“We could reduce them to nothing. Make them feel every ounce of pain they caused
you.”
“Yes.” The word escaped my lips, carrying years of pent–up pain and longing.
Vincent’s eyes darkened. He pulled me close, one hand tangling in my hair while. the other traced the curve of my spine. His lips crashed into mine with an intensity. that stole my breath. The kiss was raw, desperate – everything my marriage had lacked. Where Thomas’s touches had been
cold obligation, Vincent’s burned with promise and protection..
He broke away, leaving me gasping. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist and
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led me from the shed. His grip was firm but gentle, anchoring me as we moved through the darkness. The night air kissed my flushed skin. Leaves crunched beneath. our feet as we wound through overgrown paths.
For the first time in years, I felt safe. Protected. The man leading me through the shadows was dangerous – but his danger wasn’t meant for me.
We emerged into a small clearing. Moonlight spilled across a solitary headstone, nearly obscured by weeds and vines. Vincent’s thumb stroked my wrist as we approached.
“Dominic Swanson,” I whispered, reading the weathered inscription. My fingers traced the carved letters, connecting me to the grandfather I’d never known. The date of death hit me hard – just two years ago. While I’d been trapped in my loveless marriage, he’d been searching for me.
I pulled my hand away from the headstone,
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my grandfather’s name etched not just in stone but now in my heart. The rage that had been building inside me crystallized into something sharp. No more tears. No
more weakness.
“Vincent.” My voice came out steady, stronger than I’d ever heard it. “Take me. home. To your place.”
His eyes locked with mine, searching. A slow smile spread across his face, dangerous and possessive. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.
“Say it again.” His thumb traced my jawline.
“Take me home.” I leaned into his touch, unflinching. “I want to go home with you.”
“There’s my woman.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then pulled back to look at me. “Ready to leave this all behind?”
“Your woman,” I repeated softly, testing how the words felt on my tongue. They didn’t feel like the cage my marriage had
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been. They felt like freedom.
