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“What the fuck are you doing?” I barked out. If he tried to take a picture of my wife in that tiny bikini, cousin or no, I’d shoot him. “I’m shazaming the song.” I frowned. “What the fuck for?” “Got to keep up with the trend of those two,”
“You are mine, Grace,” he growled into my ear. “You’ve been mine from the moment you took your first breath. And you’ll be mine when you take your last breath.”
“My wife. My life,”
Three years ago, I told my husband I loved him. He sent me away. Today he gave me those same words. And I would run away.
