The Ritual

He chased me down. Killed a man for me. Saved me. That’s more than anyone else has ever done. Ryat promised me in the shower that I am safe with him. That he’d protect me. And then this? I refuse to let him off the hook that easily.

Fuck him and these papers.

Standing up, I grip them and walk over to the fire. I toss them in and watch my only escape plan burn.

Till death do us part, he once said to me. And I’m about to make him eat those words. Walking back to our bedroom, I enter the closet and look over my clothes that he had brought over from my apartment. I grab a T-shirt and a pair of white cotton shorts. After getting dressed, I brush my teeth. I’m rinsing out my mouth when I hear the front door open.

Making my way back into the living room, I place my hands on my hips, preparing for a fight, expecting it to be Ryat. He’s come back. He’s changed his mind too. I have no problem arguing it out with him.

“Ryat?” I hear a female voice call out his name as the front door shuts. Then the last person I expected to see enters the living room. She comes to a stop, and her wide eyes meet mine. “Blakely?” She gasps, swallowing nervously.

My eyes drop to her heels and run up over the black trench coat she wears, already knowing that she’s probably naked underneath. A black leather designer bag hangs from her right hand. “What are you doing here?” I demand, my skin tingling as the jealousy courses through my body. My mind races to conclusions as fast as my heart beats.

“I’m here to see Ryat.” She gives me a smile. That surprised look no longer on her perfectly done-up face. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” I say, lifting my chin.

She gives a laugh. “Well, you haven’t been here over the past three weeks when I’ve been here.”

No! I don’t believe a damn word out of her mouth. Ryat is a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. He’s nothing like Matt. And I refuse to let this bitch get to me. I won’t make that mistake again. “You’re lying.”

“Oh, come on, Blakely.” She laughs, taking a step toward me. “You didn’t possibly think he’d stay faithful after you left him, did you?”

I stay where I am, letting her come to me.

“A man like Ryat has needs.” She runs her tongue along her top bleached teeth. “Needs that you weren’t here to fulfill.” Coming to a stop, she presses her right hip out. “Someone had to keep him satisfied.”

“I guess I should be thanking you then, huh?” I ask, arching a brow.

“I should be thanking you.” She touches her pointer finger to the tip of my nose, and it takes everything in me not to bite it off. “If you hadn’t run like the scared little girl you are, Ryat may have never called me.”

I reach down, my right hand spinning my wedding ring around on my left hand, and then I slap her across the face with everything that I have. I need a release. A bitch fight sounds like just the thing to help that out.

Gasping, her hand shoots to her face as she drops—what I’m guessing is her overnight bag—at her feet. Pulling it away, she looks at the blood from the cut my ring left across her cheek. “Bitch!” she hisses.

“I’m sorry, did my wedding ring cut you?” I ask, giving her an apologetic smile.

“You fucking bitch …” She charges me.

_______________

I SIT ON the couch, dressed in Cindy’s trench coat. After I was done with her, I did my makeup and hair, then sat back, waiting for my husband to return home from God knows where. I feel like this will be my life a lot—always waiting on him. Not knowing what he’s doing or where he’s at.

Hearing the front door open and close makes me bite back a smile. Seconds later, he steps into the living room, dressed in the same clothes he left in, and comes to a stop. “What are you still doing here?” he demands, his eyes looking over me. I watch them turn heated in a way that tells me even though he’s mad, he’d still fuck me.

Good enough.

“I made you a drink.” I ignore his question and lean forward, picking up the glass of scotch off the coffee table.

He just glares down at me, unmoving. I’m sure he thinks I found his stash of drugs and am trying to knock him out or poison him. “Okay, then.” I shrug and throw the burning liquid back. Some of it runs down my chin onto my chest. “Oops,” I say, pulling the top of the trench coat farther apart to give him a better look. “Wanna lick it off me?” I ask.