Shortly after our emotional reunion, Tristan demanded my immediate discharge.

The doctor had his reservations. He insisted I needed more time to recover under medical supervision. "I'm afraid it's too soon for this. She needs to stay in the hospital for a few more days to ensure her health."

But Tristan was adamant.

"She is my wife and I know what is best for her. We're leaving."

"But it—"

"Get the papers ready now," he demanded, his voice brooking no argument.

The doctor, albeit reluctantly, complied and in no time, returned with the necessary forms. "I'm doing this against my better judgment," he said as he handed the papers to Tristan. "Please be vigilant and come back immediately if there are any complications."

Tristan signed the forms swiftly. Once the formalities were completed, he helped me out of bed and into a wheelchair.

Outside, Stefan stood waiting for us, alongside Ryder who was ready to drive.

He yawned and stretched. "Meeeeennn, I'm so exhausted."

I managed a faint smile. "Thank you, Stefan, for everything. We couldn't have done this without you."

He waved it off. "Nah, come on, it's nothing."

"You should take the rest of the week off," Tristan added, his voice soft with gratitude. "You've earned it."

Stefan grinned. It was a genuine heartwarming smile that reached his tired eyes. "Thanks, boss. You two take care, and be safe."

He opened the back door of the Maybach, allowing Tristan to carefully place me inside before sliding in next to me. As the car hummed to life, I leaned into him, seeking his warmth. "We'll stay in a hotel until the heat dies down," he murmured, pulling me close. "It's safer that way."

I nodded, trusting his judgment. The drive was quiet, the events of the past days weighing heavily on all of us. When we reached the hotel, Tristan lifted me into his arms.

I protested.

"Tristan, your shoulder—"

"Shh," he hushed me gently, carrying me with ease despite his injury.

Once in the master suite, he laid me gently on the king-sized bed. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything?" He asked me softly, brushing a stray hair from my face.

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

He stroked my cheek. "I'm going to run a bath for you."

The thought of a warm bath sounded incredibly appealing. I nodded. "I'd love one."

Humming in agreement, he kissed my temple and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the suite, mingling with the soft hum of the air conditioning. I didnt move from my position as I stared at the fancy ceiling. A few minutes later, Tristan appeared with his sleeves rolled up. "The bath is ready," he announced, scooping me up.

Inside the bathroom was filled with warm steam and the scent of lavender. Tristan set me down carefully on the floor and helped me undress. His movements were tender. He bunched up the hospital gown and pulled it over my head slowly, and as it landed on the floor beside me, I heard his breath shudder out of his lungs. "Sienna..."

I followed his gaze down my body now exposed in the soft glow of the bathroom lights. Dark, mottled bruises were stark against my skin, painting a picture of the painful ordeal I had endured.

"I didn't know it was..." His words trailed off. "Oh, God, Sienna." His hand hovered over one particularly nasty bruise on my abdomen, but he didn't touch it, too afraid of causing me more pain. "It's worse than I imagined..."

"It's okay," I murmured, trying to offer some comfort. "I'll heal."

But his eyes had already darkened with a familiar mix of emotions. "That bastard..." His nostrils flared. He shut his eyes, breathing in deeply. "I brought you into this, if I didn't—if we never—"

I touched his face, willing him to look at me instead. "A few bruises aren't going to make me regret knowing or loving you, Tristan. "

His misty eyes met mine. "How can you say that? You're in pain because of me."

I smiled. "I'll heal." I glanced at his shoulder. "You got shot because of me too. We're even."

"Sienna..."

"Come on, the water's going to get cold."

He didn't utter another word as he crouched down on his knees in front of me and helped me take my panties off. Fully naked, he helped me into the huge bathtub.

The warmth enveloped me, easing some of the tension from my battered body and providing a soothing relief.

Tristan pushed to his feet and made a move towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

He stopped and turned. "I'll be right back, I need to make a call."

"No. Stay. Join me."

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes scanning the bathtub. "Are you sure?"

The tub was spacious enough for three people. I nodded back, mustering a small smile. "Yes, please."

Nodding silently, he reached for his pants and began to undo his belt. I laid my head on the black headrest and sighed, drinking him in. It didnt matter how many times I had seen this man undress, the sight never got tiring. His pants came off, and with slow, deliberate movements, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the bandages wrapped around his shoulder where the gunshot wound had marred his skin.

Guilt made my chest ache. He'd been shot because of me. The memories assailed me, making me shudder. I quickly pushed them aside, not wanting to dwell in the past.

Tristan eased into the tub beside me, settling in with a careful grace that spoke volumes of his consideration for my comfort. I moved closer, unable to resist the urge to reach out and touch the bandage gently. "Does it hurt?" I asked, gingerly caressing the area.

He paused for a beat, then shook his head slightly. "No."

I gave him a knowing look, sensing his attempt to shield me from worry. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, it's nothing."

I pressed lightly on the bandage.

He winced and recoiled. "Ouch, fuck!"

"You're a terrible liar," I teased gently, my fingers tracing the edges of the bandage.

A faint smile played on his lips despite the discomfort. "You caught me just this one time."

I smiled, lifting my hand to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Tristan."

"Mm?"

"I love you."

He grabbed my hand and kissed it. "Do you? Even after knowing I'm capable of murder?"

I frowned. "You're not a murderer."

"I killed a man, Sienna."

My heart dropped. Was that what he thought of himself now? A killer? I cupped his face, ensuring he could see how serious I was. "He was going to kill you and me. It was self-defense."

"Still..." He closed his eyes and sighed, a sound of both frustration and weary. My chest ached. I wish I could know what was going on in his head, I wished I could understand why he thought the way he did; why he was hellbent on blaming himself for everything.

The tension deepened as I waited for him to open his eyes and look at me. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, battling with his own reasoning.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were sunken. "Let me wash you."

This was his way of signaling he was done discussing it. I didn't fight it. I allowed him to clean me. Picking up a washcloth, he lathered it with soap and began to wash me with careful, deliberate strokes.

His touch was a balm to my weary body, easing the tension that had been gripping me. He washed my whole body including my hair, with gentle precision, and when he was done, I felt slightly better.

He helped me out and dried me off with meticulous care, he then guided me back into the bedroom where he sat me on the edge of the bed and proceeded to wipe my hair dry.

Just as he worked through my hair, the doorbell rang.

"Room service."

"It's here," Tristan muttered, quickly grabbing a towel and wrapping it securely around his waist before heading to the door.

Sitting there, I watched as he opened the door slightly, just enough to converse with the person outside.

"Thank you," He said, accepting a box and nodding curtly before closing the door. He returned to me.

"What's in it?" I asked, nodding to the box.

"A care kit for you." He set the box down on the bedside table and opened it. Inside was a medical kit, complete with ointments, bandages, and other supplies.

"You're always so thoughtful."

"That's because I love you." Kneeling in front of me, he selected a balm from the kit and unscrewed the lid. A soothing, herbal scent filled the air. He grabbed my hand. "Let's take care of those bruises."

Smiling, I watched as he applied the balm with the same tender care he'd shown in the bath. His fingers moved gently over my skin, smoothing the soothing ointment onto each bruise with a touch so light it was almost a caress.

It amazed me how such a man could be this incredibly gentle. His fingers barely even grazed my skin.

When he reached my neck and grazed it, I winced softly.

He stopped.

"It's fine." I sighed. "Just quick reflex."

But he stared at me, his eyes shadowed with palpable grief.

"Please don't blame yourself."

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before nodding. The internal struggle in his eyes was still present. I knew the guilt wouldn't vanish easily, but I hoped my words would at least ease it.

When he was done, he helped me lie down on the bed. There were no clothes needed, pulling the covers aside, he slipped between the cool sheets and settled in beside me.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Better," I replied honestly. "Thank you."

Placing his arm around me, he kept me close. The warmth of his body was a comforting contrast to the cool night air. I nestled closer to his chest and closed my eyes, listening to his quiet breathing.

"Tristan?"

"Mm?"

I drew circles on his chest. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Alaric's wife..."

His body stiffened. It made me stop and bite into my lower lip. He had already been through so much, and this seemed like the worst time to bring up such a topic, but the question gnawed at the edges of my mind and lingered on the tip of my tongue, refusing to be dismissed.

For my own sake, I needed to know. So I continued.

"Those things he said...did you really...rape her?"

His eyes met mine, dark and pained. "Would you look at me differently if I did?"

My body tensed up. I didn't know how to answer that. "I don't...know..."

He kissed my hair, his lips lingering as if seeking reassurance. "I never raped Gracie." He stated softly. "Whatever we had going on between the two of us was consensual."

Instant relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by another unsettling thought. "So you...slept with your cousin's wife?"

His chest heaved as he exhaled. "My moral compass has been skewed for a very long time."

My throat tightened. "Did you like her that much?"

He shook his head. "It was never about Gracie. My attraction to her was purely about Alaric. He loved her, and the idea of using what he loved to break him seemed too appealing."

Suddenly, I was reminded of Alaric's words: 'It is the things we love the most that end up destroying us'. It made sense. I continued to draw invisible circles on his chest as I asked. "How did you do it?"

"It didn't take much effort. Gracie was an extravagant woman who loved to flaunt wealth in an outlandish way. Alaric, however, didn't have wealth in abundance; he was barely managing to keep his construction company from going bankrupt at that time. It was as clear as day that she got her funding from other sources. I looked into it and found out she was into the webcam business. She sold her body to rich upstate men and used the capital to maintain her manufactured lifestyle."

"That's insane."

"I figured sending the evidence to Alaric and watching him fall apart would be a sight for sore eyes, but I had a much better idea. I photocopied my findings and mailed them to Gracie instead. She showed up in my office the next day, begging that I didn't rat her out. Alaric was possessive of her and would lose his mind. She told me she would do anything I wanted. My requirements were simple: all she had to do was quit whatever she had going and become mine. I would own and control her, use and misuse her. In exchange, I would keep her secret and fund her lifestyle."

I pulled in a slow, shaky breath, finding it hard to take it all in. I never imagined the depth of his hatred for his cousin, nor the extent he would go to for retribution. "Did she agree to it?"

He chuckled. "Alaric might have loved her with his life but she didnt feel the same way. Without giving it a second thought, Grace agreed to my terms. She even sealed the deal by getting on her knees to please me."

That was honestly disgusting.

"Things were going according to my plan," He continued. "Gracie did everything I asked, including bringing me the locations and dates of Alaric's landed properties and incoming cargo. I burned them all to the ground and watched him lose his shit. I intended to strip him of everything, to make sure no one wanted to invest in him. I was going to leave him with nothing, and just when he thought he had his precious wife to fall back on, I would break it to him that I owned her as well and had defiled her in so many wicked ways. It would have been my final act of vindication, seeing him utterly shatter, but that stupid bitch had to ruin everything by reaching too high."

I lifted my head. "What did she do?"

He huffed. "She got pregnant."

My stomach dropped. "Was... it yours?"

He shook his head quickly. "I already had my vasectomy done, and we always used protection. Gracie had no knowledge of my surgery and tried all she could to pin the pregnancy on me. She told me she was ready to leave Alaric for me, all I had to do was agree to marry her. Ambitious little snake." He hissed. "When I threatened to end things and stop her funding, She became spiteful. She knew Alaric wouldn't take her back just like that, so she induced a miscarriage and lied. She claimed I had threatened her with her past and forced her into sleeping with me. She made him believe I killed his baby out of my hatred for him."

My breath left me in a rush. "Oh my God, she's crazy."

"Alaric believed it. He knew it was only a matter of time before I came for him. I didn't bother beating the allegations. I figured it would break him more that way. And it did."

"And Gracie?"

"I didn't have to do anything; karma took its course. A few months later, she was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. She lost the battle quickly."

"Oh my..."

"Alaric lost his status, his wife, and most of all, his sanity."

A shiver ran through me. I lifted my head, searching his face, looking for any sign of remorse or regret. There was none. Only anger and disdain, born from a place of deep-seated pain. My heart ached. "Why did you hate him so much?"

He looked at me.

The silence stretched out between us, thick and heavy.

With a sigh, he placed his hand behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't always hate Alaric," he admitted, his voice low and strained. "When I moved to college, he was my only friend. We shared a dorm room together. He was the vibrant one, the one everyone doted on, and I was... just me; the angry, unapproachable one."

I watched him closely, seeing the pain and bitterness that carved into his features as he reminisced.

"He knew about my nightmares," he continued, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. "When my mother died, I struggled to cope with the changes. I had frequent nightmares, waking the whole house with my screams. I tried several therapists, but none helped. In college, the nightmares worsened. Alaric quickly pieced it together. I made it easy for him with the way I always screamed at Madaline to stop touching me." He groaned. "He wanted to help me. We started off with drugs; he introduced me to substances he used. He said it would help. I'd hoped it would bring control, but it didn't. Eventually, I started drowning myself in alcohol. It still didnt work. Nothing seemed to cure the anger and frustration bubbling inside me. One night, Alaric dragged me out to a BDSM club. It was my first time attending something so dark like that, and seeing how excited I became made him decide that what I needed was submissive."

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I could barely catch my breath. There was still so much of this man that I didnt know.

"There was this girl he'd met in a support group. He'd heard her talk about her addiction to pain and thought she would be a perfect match. Laura was her name. She was a masochist, the perfect match for a sadist like me. After meeting me, she agreed to it and became my first submissive. Fucking around with her certainly helped me relieve my stress and anger—knowing I inflicted pain rather than endured it —it made me feel lighter and more in control of my emotions. But things started to fall apart when Alaric wanted a piece of her for himself as well." A bitter edge crept into his tone. "At first, I refused. I couldn't stand the thought of him ruining the one good thing in my life. But Alaric stopped playing nice. He threatened me, Sienna. He said if I didn't agree, he'd tell the whole campus about my mother."

"How could he do that?"

His chest lifted and fell roughly. "I eventually gave in to his demand and convinced Laura to let him have her just once. She was defiant but obeyed because it was her master's order. Alaric had his way with her. I thought everything would return to normal but he kept coming, kept wanting more. When I learned he had started physically threatening her, I got fed up and beat him up. It was so bloody that we both got suspended from campus."

I swallowed hard. "Did you have feelings for Laura?"

He paused for a second and met my gaze. "I couldn't tell if I did. There was so much going on with me at that time. But I did care about her." H returned his gaze to the ceiling. "After that incident, Alaric and I no longer shared a dorm. We lived separately on campus. It was a relief not to have to see his fucking face every day. Just when I thought things were getting better, I received a text from Laura one night, asking me to meet at our usual cabin. When I arrived, the cabin was ransacked, and Laura was nowhere to be found. I panicked, calling her repeatedly. When she didn't answer, I searched around the property. That was when I found her lifeless body lying on the ground by the lake with Alaric shivering next to her."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I gasped. "Oh my God."

"He was scared, claimed he'd called Laura to apologize and clear the air, but then he'd overdosed on drugs, and in a haze, he chased and strangled her to death."

Jesus Christ.

He let out a bitter, hollow laugh that echoed through the room. "Of course, I didn't believe a word he said. In fact, I wanted to kill him right there myself. But he begged me. Begged me to help him, and foolishly, I did. We cleaned up the house, made it look like nothing had happened. I made him swear to turn himself in. He agreed. The next day, Alaric did call the cops—just not on himself. He called them on me."

I covered my mouth in shock. I couldn't believe this.

His nostrils flared. "Alaric painted me as the villain. It was his word against mine, and with the evidence stacked against me, no one questioned it. Laura and I had fought a few days before her text. The messages were there—my words about wanting to mark her, make her cry, make her beg. The cops saw it all. Everyone thought I killed Laura. Of course, no one was bold enough to say it to my face but they all treated me like a murderer. I was alienated. My family shunned me. No one wanted anything to do with me. My own father forced me into the army. It was that or jail."

"Tristan..." My voice wavered. "That's..." A terrible urge to cry swamped me. How could they treat him this way?

"After a few months, my grandfather pulled me out of the army without my father's knowledge and sent me overseas to continue my studies. He was the only one who cared for my side of the story. He pushed me to do better, he told me I had to rise above the stigma and prove my innocence through my success."

A tear slipped passed my eye. That was why he loved him so much...

"Oh, Tristan." I didn't know what to say. I couldn't make up words.

His jaw clenched. "Alaric continued to live his life as if nothing happened. He inherited his father's business, the wealth, the connections. He had it all handed to him on a silver platter while I fought tooth and nail for every opportunity. When I heard he had found a wife and was ready to finally settle down, all that old hurt and anger came rushing back. I knew what I did wasn't right, but I just wanted to hurt him, I wanted to hurt him so bad."

I reached up to touch his face. "It's okay. No one has the right to judge you for your choices. You've been wronged in so many awful ways."

For a moment, his eyes softened, and he leaned into my touch. "Sometimes...I wonder if I'm beyond redemption."

"Everyone makes mistakes," I whispered. "It's what we do afterward that defines us. You've faced challenges that would break most people, yet you've found a way to rise above it all and now you're changing for the better."

He took a shaky breath, his hands gripping me tightly as if afraid to let go. "I overwhelm you don't I? Me, my past."

"You don't overwhelm me, Tristan," I affirmed, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. His past might not be pretty, but it was a part of him and I loved every part of him. "I'm here because I want to be. Because despite everything you've been through, you've grown into a compassionate and resilient person. That's what matters to me."

"I honestly don't deserve you, Sienna."

"You deserve everything good, you deserve happiness."

"You're my happiness." He kissed my temple. "I love you, Sienna, with everything in me. Don't ever leave."

"I'm here...always, forever."

There was no escaping our love.

We were bound together forever.

Not even death could do us part.