Chapter 22

"Tell me everything I need to know about this ex of yours."

Cole's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—like a knife pressed too hard against skin. He shut the door behind us, his sharp grey eyes pinned on me, waiting for an answer.

I swallowed, my fingers curling into fists. *Nicholas* Just hearing his name in my head made my stomach clench.

I opened my mouth, but Cole cut me off.

"When I say everything, I mean everything, Astrid. Don't leave out any details."

I exhaled shakily, turning away from him. The walls of my bedroom suddenly felt too close.

How could I explain? How could I put into words the hell I had survived?

Nobody really knew—not fully. Not even my mother. I had kept it from her because I knew it would break her heart. Chloe was the only one who knew everything, and that was only because she had forced the truth out of me.

I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "We met in high school," I started, my voice quieter than I intended. "I was sixteen. He was... the golden boy. Mr. Popular. Handsome, charming. The kind of guy every girl wanted, and for some reason, he wanted me."

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, but my chest ached. "At first, I didn't care. I thought he was just another arrogant jerk who liked playing games. But then..." My throat tightened. "Then he made me believe it was real."

The first tear burned hot as it slid down my cheek.

"I fell in love with him," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I gave him everything. My time, my trust… and eventually, my body. And he made me think I was lucky to have him. We graduated together. He proposed. Got an apartment. Asked me to move in."

I turned to face Cole then, my vision blurry with tears. His expression was unreadable, but I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I was so happy," I continued, my voice raw. "I thought it was the start of the life we always talked about. But that's when it changed. That's when the nightmare started."

Cole didn't say anything. He just watched me, his grey eyes dark with something dangerous.

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just pain. "He became... possessive. At first, I told myself it was because he loved me too much. That's what he said. 'I love you so much, Astrid. I just can't stand the thought of losing you.' That's what he told me every time he got jealous. Every time he accused me of looking at another guy, of inviting attention, of making him angry."

I wiped my face, but the tears kept coming. "Then it got worse. The first time he hit me, I was so shocked I didn't even cry. I just stood there, touching my cheek, wondering if it had really happened. And Nicholas? He fell to his knees, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. 'I didn't mean it, baby. You just make me crazy. I love you too much. I'll never do it again.'"

I closed my eyes, remembering the way I had believed him.

"But he did do it again. And again. And every time, he would blame me. He would say it was because I made him angry, because I should have known better, because I was his and I wasn't acting like it. And then he'd apologize. Every single time. Gifts. Flowers. Tears. And I would forgive him."

Cole made a sound, something low and guttural, like he was barely restraining himself.

"But then," I whispered, "he stopped apologizing."

I lifted my head meeting Cole's eyes.

"The hitting turned into full-on beatings. Sometimes it was for something as small as not answering my phone fast enough. Other times, it was for something I didn't do, but he convinced himself I had. And the worst part?" My lips trembled. "I still thought I loved him. I still thought I could fix him. That if I was good enough, quiet enough, obedient enough, he would stop."

Cole swore under his breath.

I shook my head, forcing myself to keep going. "I lost myself, Cole. I stopped seeing my family. Stopped talking to my friends. He would monitor me, check my calls, demand to know where I was every second of the day. If I stepped out of line, he would hurt me. Sometimes with his hands, sometimes with words. And I let him."

My breath hitched. "And then… he tried to kill me."

Cole stilled.

"He strangled me." My voice was almost detached now, like I was talking about someone else. "It was after a party. He was drunk, but that wasn't an excuse. I told him I wanted to leave, that I wasn't feeling well. He got angry. Said I was embarrassing him. Said I was acting like a whore in front of his friends. When we got home, he threw me against the wall and wrapped his hands around my throat."

I shuddered, the memory flashing behind my eyes—his fingers tightening, my vision darkening, the sound of my own choking filling the room.

"I thought I was going to die," I admitted, the weight of it pressing down on me. "I could feel myself slipping away. But Chloe—" My voice cracked. "Chloe saved me. She found out. She went to the police. I hated her for it back then because I was so brainwashed I thought it was love. But she saved me."

Cole exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. "Jesus, Astrid."

I wiped at my face, sniffing. "We got a restraining order. And I never heard from him again." I let out a shaky breath. "Until now."

The room was silent except for the sound of my breathing. I could feel the weight of Cole's gaze on me.

Then—softly, carefully—he stepped closer.

I braced myself for a response, for anger, for pity—but it was neither.

Instead, he reached out and wiped away a stray tear with the rough pad of his thumb.

His voice was low, dangerous.

"He's not going to touch you ever again."

It wasn't a promise.

It was a threat.