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... p it from trembling, but he doesn’t stop.

"I don’t care what you think you saw. I don’t care if it looks like I’m protecting her. I am protecting you. I am protecting what’s mine.

"The only reason she’s on this plane is because if I left her behind, Marcus might get to her, and if Marcus gets to her, he gets closer to you. This is strategy, kitten. Not love. Not trust. Strategy. Every single move I make is to keep you alive, safe, and in my bed every night where you belong."

...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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