Knox rests his chin on his folded hands, staring at me with a lazy, venomous satisfaction that makes my stomach turn far more than his anger did.
He looks like a predator who knows he’s about to plunge a knife into a wound I didn't even know was exposed.
The two thugs behind him shift on their feet, their eyes darting to the broken skylights above, clearly unsettled by the quiet, heavy stillness of the dark space, but Knox is entirely consumed by his own sick sense of control.
"You look so confident sitting there," Knox purrs, "Relying on big bad Locke to come save the day. Tell me, Zara... how does it feel, knowing that no matter how many times he f***s you, you're still my wife? I owned you first, and on paper, I still own you now."
I don't blink. I keep my jaw set, staring straight
