Dear Ex Wife Please take me back by The Every Woman

Chapter 42 ~ His rage

ATHENA

I follow him.

Every step feels heavier than the last, like the air itself is thick with something unspoken.

My boots click hard against the stone path matching the way my heart is beating hard against my chest, but all I can focus on is the man in front of me, shoulders tense, hands still shoved in his pockets like if he takes them out, he might just break something.

Or someone.

I glance back once. Zayan is still standing there, watching us disappear, a frown

on his lips like he's debating if he should step in.

Don't, I beg silently. You'll only make it worse.

Alex doesn't say a word.

He leads me past rows of horses and stables, out of sight from the others, until we reach a quiet corner surrounded by tall hedges.

Hidden.

Trapped.

He finally stops, but he doesn't turn around.

This is the point when I feel like running away. But to where? I stay with the man.

The same music from before can be heard again, and I wonder if it was Alex that stopped the parade.

Would he, though?

For me?

"Alex" I start, my voice softer than I want it to be.

His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, and then, slowly, he turns to face

me.

His eyes are cold. So cold it feels like they could slice right through me.

the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks quietly, dangerously

up even though my

I offer weakly, but it comes out more

takes a step

I step back.

but halt

Did he follow us?

man gives

like this. I might take this as a sign that you're meant to be with me." He says with a cocky grin

my body rise and not in a heartwarming way. I'm still thinking of a comeback when I feel a hard

of those girls." Alex growls as he

just couldn't resist those curves and that face."

tenses like a predator about to

the worst part. The silence

can't see his face, but I can feel

Tangible. Dangerous.

stupid, chuckles like

when it's right in front of me. I mean, you

step forward, and I see the challenge in Arnold's eyes. A part of

that cold, silent

can cut it with a knife, and I

I whisper, hoping my shaking

as he turns and grabs my arm, pulling me

door, I rush toward and sit like a good

phone, where he types

then throws the phone in the

anger. And I swear all his green

if it's at me or at

streets when I hold onto

heart is pumping wildly, although I'm not worried at all. Alex

do anything he can't

try to speak, but my throat is so dry that I can barely

is louder than anything

so tight his knuckles are white, veins bulging under the skin. His jaw is locked, his

breathe through the thick tension

tires screech, but it's the sound of him that terrifies me, the way his breaths are hard, fast, like he's one

I manage to whisper, though my throat feels like sandpaper. "Please say