A Pawn, A Son, A Forced Marriage

nly life jacket to his mistress, Ilene, and wa

dragged me back to his world, and revealed a shocking truth: our son, th

sing our son as a pawn. But the boy he'd raised was a strang

knew I had t

a victim, but as Ayla Garcia, the

e echoing through the hall, "you dared to t

ife, but he never realized he

pte

Hudso

h the girl I used to be. But the past, it seemed, had a

lty air. His suit looked out of place, too sharp, too expensive for this forgott

ce flat, devoid of any warmth.

atement, no

cident," he continued, as if discussing

ad looked at me, then at Ilene, and the life jacket had been in his hands for only a second before he tossed it to her. I remembered his face, a mask of cal

ice. "What do you want, Connor?" I ask

there, a shadow in my life. Now, she was a bright, terrible pres

really you? You've... changed. So much sun. And those hands. Rough."

Ilene asked, her eyes narrowed. "She

, a trophy on Connor's arm. This Ayla, smelling of fish and salt, wit

nt, a flicker of something unreadable in his

s grasp, my heart hammering

iron-hard on my wrist. "D

bitter taste. He was still

my neck. His fingers, cold and intrusive, brushed a

rbone, the curve of my chest to the curious stares of the

e buzzing flies. "Who is that?" "What's he d

ely to cover myself, but C

devoid of emotion, as if he were identifying a p

e into mine. There was no apology

ecurring nightmare. Eight years ago, almost to the day, he had done something similar. Proving his ownership. He'd forced me to stri

armth I might have held for the boy he once

already knew. He wanted the world to kno

lash of pigment, stood out against my skin.

er, but laced with enough venom to cut. "Or do you ne