37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

-Jared-

She's alive... She's alive... She's alive... I repeated the words to myself, hoping that the mantra would eventually sink in. But the fear of losing Alison again loomed large in my mind, amplified by the previous loss. I could barely recall the moments when I had dispatched the guards or put a bullet through Finn's head. It wasn't until her cries of pleasure pierced the haze that I began to return to reality. I had been so certain that I was going to lose her, yet here she was, in my arms, unharmed. Shaken and angry, yes, but physically unscathed. He hadn't laid a finger on her. She was mine, mine, mine...

"Jared?" Alison's voice brought me back to the present. We had been standing still for... I wasn't sure how long, but I could feel the warmth draining from her body, her muscles trembling beneath my touch as she, too, began to calm down. Yet, I wasn't ready to let her go. I just wanted to hold her.

"I'm still hungry," she suddenly announced, and laughter bubbled up from within me uncontrollably.

She chuckled in response, clearly attempting to break the tension. I pulled back slightly, meeting her smile, and reached up to stroke her skin, pushing back her sweaty hair.

"I guess we didn't eat much at dinner," I remarked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Shall I feed you, wife?" I teased, using the endearment we employed in our marriage game. Alison was mine, whether or not we had a piece of paper to prove it. She had all of me, body and soul.

"I'm famished," she admitted with a small smile. "Which is odd, considering..." Her gaze drifted to the bodies scattered around us, but it seemed she was growing more accustomed to the sight. That was a good sign. Our lives might never fully settle, and she couldn't afford to lose her appetite every time something went awry.

"Come," I urged, guiding her out of the room.

"What about Henrick?" she asked.

"Poisoned as well," I informed her as I led her to the kitchen.

I insisted on taking charge of feeding her, ushering her to sit at the kitchen island while I prepared the food. She didn't seem to mind, obediently watching as I served her a plate.

"Aren't you hungry?" she inquired, but I shook my head.

My appetite had been minimal all day, overshadowed by the impending events. I remained on edge, so I positioned myself behind her, pressing a gentle kiss atop her head before settling down beside her. Alison refused to accept my reply, prompting her to offer me some bread to nibble on. Accepting her gesture, I savored each small bite as we both gradually found our calm.

"Is it always like this?" she asked after finishing half her meal.

"What?" I inquired.

"So quiet afterward... weird," she whispered.

"Weird?"

"Don't you find it disturbing, knowing there are dead people here?" she questioned, her voice trembling slightly. I shook my head.

"People die left and right."

"Yes, but we... you..." She struggled to articulate her thoughts, and I understood it was a lot to process. My first encounter with death hadn't been easy either, but I had grown up in a far harsher environment than she had. I had learned to handle much more.

"It will get easier," I reassured her softly.

"I don't want it to get easier," she sighed, looking away from me but still eating her food.

"You're right," I conceded, prompting her to turn back to me with a confused expression. "I don't want it to get easier for you either. I want to shield you from it, but I also don't want to be reckless. I put too much trust in Astrid, and it almost cost me you again."

Her mouth fell open slightly, shock evident in her expression. "B-But she did that to—"

"But what if she hadn't felt the need to prove herself, or if her father had convinced her otherwise?" I interjected, and Alison glanced down.

"It was foolish of me not to have a better backup plan in case she betrayed us. I became overconfident," I admitted. "And in this line of business, arrogance is rarely a virtue."

She sighed, lowering her fork and nodding. "So what are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm saying I want to leave."

"But we don't have anywhere to go, and Vince—"

"Vince doesn't care about Astrid. Like Henrick, she's just a pawn. I'm the king, and you're the queen here," I explained, a faint smile forming on her lips.

"Doesn't the queen have all the power?" she asked, recalling her knowledge of chess.

"Yes," I replied with a smile, which widened hers. "That's why you're dangerous."

I watched as Alison visibly straightened at my words, but I resolved not to let her come so close to danger again. She was right about Astrid's indifference toward her well-being. If Finn hadn't wanted to taunt me, he would have harmed Alison without hesitation. But I wouldn't risk it happening again. I wanted Alison out of here, and as I looked at her, an idea began to form.

She must have noticed the change in my expression because she scrutinized me. "What?" she asked.

"You liked the house, didn't you?" I inquired.

"My house?"

"No, mine," I clarified. "The one where I grew up with Vince."

Her blink was a little rapid. "Um, yes, I did kind of like it. It needs more light and someone to make it more homely, but it's special."

I continued to smile, and Alison slowly caught on to my idea. "Vince lives there."

"No, it's mine now. All the guards are gone, he's gone, and so is his stuff. He gave it to me, as he always wanted. If you want, we could go there. Temporarily, but it offers privacy."

"Wouldn't we still need some guards, maybe some staff?" she inquired.

"Fair point. However, I have that covered. But there would be no Astrid, no surprises, just us."

As Alison considered the idea, a smile began to spread across her lips, and gradually, she started nodding, seeming to warm up to my suggestion the more she thought about it. "Okay, let's go there."