Knox goes very still. When he speaks, his voice is lethal.
“That’s still hitting you.”
“It’s not—”
“It is.” His arms tighten around me. “Every time he put his hands on you in anger, every time he made you afraid, every time you had to make excuses for bruises, that’s abuse, Ember.”
The words hit me like acid. Abuse.
“He was just stressed,” I hear myself say, automatic. “The pack, the treaty, hiding who he really was probabaly—it was a lot of pressure.”
“I don’t give a f**k how stressed he was.” Knox’s voice is pure ice. “He had no right to touch you like that. Ever.”
Something dark and murderous settles in his expression. His eyes flash gold again, wolf rising to the surface.
“I should have killed him,” he says quietly. “I should have crushed his throat when I had the chance.”
“Kn
