“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps, his fists clenching by his side as rage coils through those unique hazel eyes of his.
“Okay, I’m not sorry. I should go.”
“No,” he growls.
The sound reverberates around the room and I can’t deny that despite him being bedridden; I fear him more now than ever. Adrik has always been in control. I’ve never seen this wild side of him, and it scares me.
“Come here and sit down,” he orders, sounding a little more in control.
I turn around against my better judgement and return to the chair by his bedside, sitting in it.
His eyes are clamped shut. “I was there the day a psychopath broke into our home and killed my mother.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “No one knows the sick things that bastard put me through while he murdered and then raped her in that order.” His eyes open and meet mine. “Not even my family know. I thought he would kill me, but he said he’d leave me with scars as deep as his own and left me broken but alive with my mother’s dead corpse.” An almost manic laugh bubbles from his throat. “I didn’t speak for two years and my father thought it irrevocably fucked me up.”
A sickness pools in my gut at what he’s saying. It’s hard to believe that Adrik went through something so disgusting at such a young age. It doesn’t excuse his actions though or who he is now, but it helps me understand a little.
“What did he put you through?” I ask.
His face pales, and he shakes his head. “I think that’s enough sharing for one day.” I notice the way he clenches his fists by his side.
I nod once and tap my fingers on the arm of the chair. “Does it hurt?” I ask, nodding toward the bandaged wound at his side.
There’s relief in his expression at the change of subject as he shakes his head. “No, I’m high on painkillers. I can hardly feel a thing.”
I wonder if that’s why he’s been so open with me tonight, because he’s high on drugs. It feels weird being here with him, trying to have a civil conversation with a man I hate more than anyone in this world. All I want to do is go home and curl up in a ball, enjoying as much time as possible away from him.
“Your mother is still alive, isn’t she?” Adrik asks.
I meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, she lives in Mexico with Papá’s cousin, Pablo.”
He tilts his head. “Why didn’t you live with her?”
I shrug. “Papá took us rather suddenly from Reynosa. My mother was on a no-fly list and couldn’t come into the country.” My jaw clenches as I wonder if she knows what’s happened to Papá, or if she even cares. My mother was never a maternal or caring woman. Her focus has always been on the cartel, and she’s ruthless to a fault. “They were separated, anyway.”
“Do you visit her much?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Papá didn’t allow us to go back to Mexico often. Last time I saw her was three years ago.”
Adrik’s jaw clenches. “Perhaps we can visit her sometime.”
I swallow hard at the thought of introducing my mother to my monster of a husband. “Perhaps,” I murmur. The last thing I want is to face her like this. A puppet on the arm of a man who has broken me and stolen everything Papá worked for. My mother has never let men push her around. She’s been her own boss for as long as I can remember. “What about my brothers?”
There’s a flash of irritation in his eyes. “What about them?”
“Will I ever be allowed to see them again?” I ask, surprised I even want to see those two idiots, but I do more than anything.
Enzo has always been the most challenging of the two, perhaps because there’s four years between us. He’s also insanely private and doesn’t let anyone get close to him. But Thiago and I grew up together with only two years between us and we’ve always been close, even if he annoys me to no end.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.” Adrik’s eyes turn colder. “They object to my rule.”
That acrid hate coils through me as I stare at him, returning with a vengeance. “How does that affect me seeing them, though?”
He cracks his neck. “You’re my wife. I can’t have you running off to conspire behind my back with your brothers.”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable. As if I’m going to conspire to overthrow you?”
His eyes narrow. “What’s so unbelievable, baby girl?” He tilts his head. “Do you think because you’re a woman, I’m going to underestimate you?” A whisper of a smirk twists onto his lips. “Some of the most intelligent people I know are women.”
I stand, frustration making my hands shake. “I’m going to find a vending machine. Do you want anything?”