The mat beneath my feet suddenly feels less steady.
But I don’t back down... not this ti.
Zane doesn’t move at first, he just stands there near the doorway where Aaron left, broad shoulders filling the fra of the training room entrance. His arms are folded slowly across his chest, the muscles in his forearms tightening as his fingers curl against his bulging biceps.
His eyes stay on , not even blinking.
The air in the room suddenly feels heavier, the sll of sweat and rubber mats hangs thick around us, mixed with the faint woodsy scent that always seems to cling to Zane like a shadow.
I cross my arms too, mostly so he won’t see the way my hands want to shake so badly.
"You’re staring," I say finally.
My voice cos out steadier than I feel.
Zane tilts his head slightly.
"I’m thinking."
"About?"
"Whether Aaron has lost his fucking mind," he replies flatly.
I let out a short breath.
"He hasn’t."
"Then maybe you have."
I stare at him. "Excuse ?"
"You heard ."
His boots scrape softly against the mat as he steps further into the room slowly, the way a predator moves when it already knows its prey can’t escape. Escape
"You getting into fights with trained n twice your size," he continues calmly, "throwing yourself at Aaron like that....."
"I wasn’t throwing myself at him," I cut in.
"You tackled him."
"I was sparring, we were sparring."
"And you were losing."
I grit my teeth.
"That’s the point of training, Zane."
His jaw tightens.
"Not when you get yourself hurt."
I laugh under my breath, but there’s no humor in it.
"Hurt?" I repeat. "You an like being dragged out of a car crash? Or being tied to a bed by your husband and being tortured for minutes?"
The silence that follows is deafening.
"You’re alive," he says.
"As you can see ."
" and You’re safe."
"Barely."
His nostrils flare.
"That situation happened because you ignored my instructions."
"And your instructions were to keep locked inside the house like so pet," I snap.
"That house is the safest place for you."
"For who?" I fire back. "For ? Or for your peace of mind?"
Zane’s shoulders stiffen and for a mont neither of us speaks. The tension stretches between us like a wire pulled too tight.
Then he starts walking toward .
Each step steady.
The closer he gets, the more the difference between us becos obvious again. His height, his size, the quiet strength in every movent.
But I refuse to step back. Not again and not anymore .
He stops a few feet away.
Close enough that I can see the faint bruise along his jawline from sothing that must’ve happened earlier today. Close enough that I can see the tiredness in his eyes too, buried deep beneath the anger.
"You think learning how to throw a few punches will fix what happened to you?" he asks quietly.
I blink.
"That’s not what this is about."
"Then explain it."
"I already did."
"No," he says firmly. "You didn’t."
His voice lowers.
"You said you don’t want to be fragile."
"Yes."
"And you think Aaron teaching you a few moves suddenly makes you untouchable?"
"That’s not what I said."
"Then what did you say?"
I take a breath.
Because the words inside have been sitting there for days now.
Weeks maybe.
"I said I don’t want to feel helpless again."
Zane’s expression shifts slightly
"You weren’t helpless," he says.
My laugh this ti is bitter.
"I was drugged."
His jaw tightens.
"I was assaulted."
His eyes flicker.
"And then I found out my husband murdered the man who did it."
The room goes still.
"You didn’t look at when you told ," I continue quietly. "You just stood there covered in soone else’s blood and told not to worry about it."
A muscle in his cheek twitches.
"You think learning how to fight erases all that?" he asks.
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because next ti," I say, my voice steady now, "I want to have a choice. I want to be the one who slays my own monsters"
His brows pull together slightly.
"A choice."
"Yes."
"I didn’t have one before," I continue. "My body didn’t belong to then, I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t fight it, I couldn’t do anything."
"But if sothing like that ever happens again..." I swallow. "...I want to know I tried."
Zane doesn’t answer, he just watches .
Really watches now, not with anger bt sothing else.
"You think I’ll let that happen again?" he says quietly.
I hold his gaze.
"I think you’re powerful."
His eyes narrow slightly at that knowing sothing is coming
"But you’re not God."
The silence that follows is thick.
His hand lifts slowly and drags down his face like he’s trying to wipe away sothing that won’t leave.
"You don’t trust ," he says eventually.
"That’s not what I said."
"But it’s what you ant."
"No," I reply softly.
He looks at again.
Then I finish.
"I just don’t want my survival to depend entirely on you."
That hits him..... he looks almost like... he’s hurt.
He turns away for a mont, pacing two slow steps across the mat.
When he speaks again his voice is lower
"You’re my wife," he says simply.
"That doesn’t an you own ."
"No," he agrees quietly.
His eyes return to mine.
"But it ans your safety is my responsibility."
I shake my head.
"That’s not how responsibility works."
"That’s exactly how it works in my world."
"And that’s the problem."
Another silence stretches between us again.
Then finally....
"You really want this?" he asks.
"Yes."
"You want Aaron teaching you how to fight?"
"Yes."
"You want bruises , broken nails and getting knocked on your ass over and over until you actually learn sothing?"
"Yes."
"You won’t quit the first ti it hurts?"
"No."
His eyes search my face for a long mont.
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