***ZANE’S POV***
I force my legs to walk out of the bathroom and outside, to check on the car.
My truck was damaged and I can’t bring myself not to he mad at London. Fighting the breathe pushing through my lungs, I resist the hurt in it.
“London will be the death of me,” the words spill out of my lips as I enter the car, reassessing it.
I pull away from the tree and help pack it on the open field, close to the shed I use as the garage.
I carry the shopping bags and notice the milk and snacks inside, I ignore it, walking towards the house.
I had heard it clearly, she thought I was a heartless mafia acting like a bloody mountain man.
Does she hate me?
I couldn’t help but ask. Anything I fight the anger running through me, I walk around the room, hoping the stress and pain will help me out.
“London?” I call out to her.
Silence. That is all I am greeted with. The calmness of the house.
I walk into the bedroom we share and I see her sitting on the vanity, her face barely starting to swell.
“I am sorry I yelled at you,” I mouth, feeling bad immediately.
Again, London snubs me. It is killing me that the woman I love is snubbing me with her full chest. I can’t just comprehend the things going on in her mind, because again, I want us to be able to talk things out.
“What happened to us being good at communicating?” I ask, closing the door gently and rolling my sleeves upward.
This time, London lifts her head to gaze at me from the mirror. As if reminding herself to shut me off, she sighs and returning on rubbing ice on her face.
“I meant it when I said you should stay away from me, Zane,” her words sound out.
I hear the unmistaken sound of my wife sniffing, and as much as I want to stay on my lane and leave her alone, I find myself rushing towards her and falling to my knees before her.
“I know something happened, but what?” I ask, glaring at her tentatively. I know she can snap at any second, I just don’t want it to be now.
“I don’t owe you anything, Zane, I would love to be alone. And nothing happened. I had an accident, you are worried about your car, I get it, now, leave me alone,” she snaps at me.
“That is it? Just that?” I demand not believing my anger rising right up to the top.
I will snap if care isn’t taken, and I don’t want to do that before her.
She should really stop poking me because she is being bad at it.
“Yes, Zane. That is it,” she confirms.
Nodding, I walk out of the room, slamming the door hard.
I spend the whole day brooding, and I don’t say London most of the day. At night, it even gets worse, she either falls asleep long before I come to bed, and she sticks to her side of the bed, at the far end of the bed.
I don’t touch her, hell, I will never touch a woman who is so fucking hurt, and she claims that I did that to her.
As I search through her things, sue me, I know that is very bad, and a breach of her trust to her, I notice her phone with a message in it.
I NEED AN ANSWER SOON, LONDON BABY, REMEMBER, IF YOU NEED A SHOULDER TO LEAN ON, I AM HERE FOR YOU
The message reads.
My face is as hot as lava, I want to wake London so violently that she becomes conscious and answers me just who the hell this fucker is.
But I don’t do that, I delete the number, and since there is no name on the number, I send it to myself, noting to give Reaper to check it out for me.
Whoever is that behind that number will pay dearly for making my woman distant away from me.
Now, I can’t wait to know what little secret London is hiding from me.
I will break the bonds just to make it work out the way I want it, and it doesn’t matter, I will reconsider this crazy ass plan, no matter the situation, I will reconsider my soul and deal with that dude.
London is mine, it might take time for her to believe me, but she has my ring in her finger, and my baby in her womb, all those things are my way of claiming her as mine.
This is literally just the beginning, but I don’t expect much from this woman. Her loyalty to me is one of them. It counts and I don’t care if she learns it the wrong way or not.
“Mine!” I growl as I take my phone outside, calling Reaper.
He picks on the third ring and I hear the blazing music from the phone fill the car as he moves away from it.
“I saw the number, Boss, what about it?” he questions.
“That bastard is having an affair with my wife. I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect. And with how shaken London was when she got back home, I need to know who he is, what kind of job he does, what he wants from London. Everything, Reaper,” I let him know.
“Yes, Boss. Consider the job done,” he tells me.
We chat for a while and with every thing that he says, it is mostly about his the club, the girls, and the drugs we do behind.
Everything is cool, and I am satisfied with it. I hang up and look around the vicinity, making sure the wood house isn’t been watched.
I wouldn’t want to kill anyone out here, but if any son of a bitch trespasses in my property, I bet the fucker wouldn’t know what hit him because I will be burying him six feet.