Chapter 29: The Attempt
MARGAUX
I would have given my wolf a mental high five. But that wasn’t her suggestion. That was mine. A thought I projected so deeply inside myself.
I straightened as the realization hit. "Tomorrow... I’ll reject him tomorrow."
What? Her shock rippled through me. Would that not anger him?
"The deal was I stay and suffer." I set the pajamas down and moved toward the bathroom. "Nothing was said about keeping this shackle of a bond."
The logic felt sound. He wanted to torture me. Fine. I’d stay. I’d endure whatever hell he’d designed. But I didn’t have to remain tied to him through a bond neither of us wanted. Especially when the only thing it seemed good for now was to heighten my pain by tenfold.
I connected to his wolf. Her voice came quieter now. Hesitant. He is in pain. Perhaps what he needs is our healing touch.
The words stopped me in the doorway. I turned back to stare at the empty room like I might find answers written on the walls.
"How can I fix what I don’t even understand yet?"
My hand came up to wipe tears off my face. I hadn’t realized I was crying again. The moisture felt hot against my cold skin.
"And he’s not some toy to be fixed." The confession came out broken. "If he’s not lying about what happened, even if his father did commit those crimes, if Uncle Lucian really sold him into slavery, then maybe I deserve this."
The truth of it settled heavily in my chest. Étienne deserved to be angry. He deserved to rage at the people who’d destroyed his life. I couldn’t imagine what he must have gone through. What it felt like to be passed around and violated. To have every sense of safety and bodily autonomy stripped away.
I picked up the purple pajamas and carried them into the bathroom. The space was larger than I’d expected, with marbled and expensive fixtures. Masculine scents lingered in the air. Sandalwood and something sharper, I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I moved to the tub and twisted the faucet. Water poured out in a steady stream. While it ran, I plugged the drain and stepped back into the bedroom to give myself something else to focus on.
His room spread before me. I’d been too distressed earlier to really look at it. Now I took in the details. Heavy wooden furniture that looked antique but was well-maintained. Dark colors that made the space feel somehow intimate rather than oppressive. Books lined one shelf, their spines worn in a way that suggested they’d been read multiple times.
My feet carried me to the dresser without conscious decision. I knew I shouldn’t snoop. It wasn’t my business what he kept in his private space.
Still, I opened the drawer anyway.
Masks stared back at me. Dozens of them were arranged in careful rows. Each one different. Some were simple and elegant. Others were elaborate with jewels and, strangely, even feathers. They represented different personas, I realized. He could wear different faces depending on what the situation required.
One caught my eye immediately.
White porcelain shaped like a stag’s head with delicate antlers curved upward from the temples. The eye holes were rimmed in silver.
My breath caught. The memory slammed into me with perfect clarity. The gala. The strange man who’d appeared to bump into me by ’accident’.
That had been Étienne.
I shut the drawer so fast that the wood cracked against wood. My hands trembled as I backed away from the dresser.
What in the fucking world....
Had he... He had... He actually had been... The nerve of this man.
He’d been watching me. For how long? Had he attended other events I’d been to? Had he stood in crowds and studied me while I remained oblivious?
The thought made my skin crawl. It was invasive and fucking creepy. This was the kind of batshit crazy things stalkers did before they struck.
I turned and nearly ran back to the bathroom. The tub had filled while I’d been snooping. Water lapped near the rim, the steam rising from the surface.
I twisted the valve to stop the flow. My fingers fumbled with the mechanism. When it finally shut off, silence rushed in to replace the sound of running water.
I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. The straps fell down my arms. I let the garment drop to the floor and then pushed my underwear down my legs until I could step out of them.
The water called to me. Promising a temporary escape from thoughts that wouldn’t stop circling.
I needed to convince myself I didn’t need to think about any of this right now. The focus should be on getting clean. On washing away the feeling of his hands on my skin and the memory of his voice in my ear.
I stepped into the tub. The heat shocked my system. It was too hot. I should have tested it first. But I lowered myself anyway, sinking down until the water rose to my shoulders.
My head needed help, too. Maybe if I submerged it completely, the pressure would quiet the thoughts that kept screaming.
I took a breath and slid under the surface.
Water closed over my face. Muffled silence replaced the bathroom’s ambient sounds. I could hear my heartbeat. The rush of blood in my ears. Nothing else existed except the contained world of this moment.
The peace lasted maybe three seconds.
Then something grabbed me.
Pressure clamped down on the back of my head. Firm and unyielding. It pushed me deeper into the water, holding me under when I tried to surface.
Panic flared bright and immediate. I reached up to grab whatever was holding me. My fingers found nothing. No hands. No physical presence. Just empty water and the relentless pressure keeping me submerged.
I struggled harder. My legs kicked against the bottom of the tub. Water sloshed over the sides in waves. But the thing wouldn’t let go.
It didn’t matter that there was nothing there to grab. The pressure remained constant. Like invisible hands had wrapped around my skull and chest and decided I needed to drown.
My lungs started to burn. The air I’d taken before going under wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to breathe. Needed to get my head above water before my body forced an inhale that would fill my chest with liquid instead of oxygen.
I thrashed harder. My nails scraped against my own scalp as I clawed at the empty space where the hands should have been. Nothing changed. The pressure intensified instead, shoving me down until my back hit the bottom of the tub.
Water rushed into my nose. The burn shot straight to my sinuses and made my eyes water. I tried to scream. Tried to call for help. For Prim or anyone who might hear me.
Water poured into my mouth instead. I choked on it, gasped, and pulled more water into my lungs. The coughing reflex triggered, and I inhaled again, desperate for air that wouldn’t come.
My vision started to blur at the edges. Dark spots danced across my field of view. The bathroom tiles visible through the water looked distorted and far away.
I was going to die here. In Étienne’s bathtub. On our wedding night.
The irony would have been funny if I weren’t drowning.
My struggles grew weaker. My arms felt heavy. Too heavy to keep fighting against the invisible force holding me down. My legs stopped kicking. They just floated uselessly in water that had turned from sanctuary to execution chamber.
This was it. This was how it ended.
What even was happening? I did not want to die like this! I did not want to die like this!
Then against everything in me... I reached out.
Étienne... heLp Me...