Chapter 78: Who did that to you!?

Lysander’s POV.

She smiles. It is brief, but I catch it.

Then she moves toward the chair opposite mine and sits down.

I watch her for a moment before taking my own seat.

Linda appears from the kitchen carrying a plate piled with food.

The moment Nerissa sees it, her entire expression changes as she reaches for the plate.

"Thank you, Linda."

"Eat properly, child."

"I will." She promises.

Then she turns to leave with the plate in her hands.

My eyes catch on something.

"What’s that?"

She stops.

Slowly, she turns her head toward me.

"What’s what?"

I stare at her neck. There is a faint shadow beneath her jaw.

At first, I think it is nothing but then I see the marks and my entire body goes still.

"What’s that on your neck, Nerissa?"

She doesn’t answer immediately. I watch something flicker across her face.

She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Her fingers tighten around the plate.

"It’s nothing."

Nothing?.

The word sits wrong in my chest.

I look at her again....Really look.

The marks are very visible. Darkened fingerprints curve around the delicate skin of her neck. Some are already fading, but others remain angry and deep.

They aren’t accidental, they aren’t from a piece of jewelry and they certainly aren’t nothing.

Someone put their hands around her throat.

Someone squeezed hard enough to leave fingerprints.

My stomach turns cold.

Nerissa starts walking again but I don’t let her get far.

I push my chair back and stand.

The movement pulls at my wounds, sending a sharp reminder through my side, but I barely register it.

When she tries to walk past me, I reach for her and pull her back.

"Lysander!"

Her plate tilts dangerously.

"You’ll make my plate fall."

I immediately take it from her hands and place it on the table. Then I turn back to her.

She’s already trying to step away but I catch her gently by the sides of her head.

She reacts instantly. Her hand flies up and slaps mine away.

I let it fall, I don’t try to force her.

"Please, little Riot."

The nickname leaves my mouth before I can think about it.

She freezes, her eyes meeting mine. For a second, neither of us moves, then I slowly lift my hands again.

This time, she doesn’t stop me as I carefully cradle the back of her head and tilt her chin upward.

Her neck is exposed beneath the dining room lights and I see everything.

My blood turns to ice.

There’s two distinct sets of marks, two hands.

Someone grabbed her throat from both sides.

The skin is bruised in uneven patches, the pressure marks still visible beneath the fading redness. Some areas are darker than others, as though whoever did this didn’t simply grab her.

They squeezed hard.

The thought hits me with so much anger that my breathing changes.

Someone tried to choke the life out of her.

My wife.

Under my roof, Inside my house.

The rage comes so quickly that it almost blinds me.

Who? Who the fuck dared to touched her?

My jaw clenches.

"Who?"

She pulls away from me.

"Who what?"

"Who did that to you?"

Her expression closes immediately.

"It’s none of your business."

She turns toward the table.

"I’m heading back to my room."

I stare at her back as she reaches for her plate.

Something inside me snaps and my palm slams against the table.

The sound echoing through the room.

"Who fucking hurt you!?"

She stops.

I hear my own breathing.

"I need a name."

My voice is low now.

"A face. Anything."

She slowly turns toward me.

"Why do you care, Lysander?"

The question catches me off guard.

Why do I care?

Because she is my wife, because someone put their hands around her throat, because she spent an entire day locked inside her room, and I had no idea why.

Because I should have known, because this happened inside my fucking house and because no matter the fuckery I can get up to, even I draw the line at abusing women and children.

"Someone hurt my wife."

I take a step toward her.

"Right under my roof."

She doesn’t answer, she simply turns away from me again and reaches for her food again.

My eyes drop to the plate and something about the sight of it makes my anger surge again.

Before I can stop myself, I grab the plate and smash it against the table.

The crack of ceramic fills the room as food scatters across the surface and spills onto the floor.

Nerissa flinches.

I grab her and pull her toward me, she stumbles against my chest and I shake her.

"Who did this to you!:"

Our faces are inches apart. Her eyes lock onto mine. For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.

I can see the anger in her face, the defiance and confusion.

But beneath all of it, something else flickers.

Something I can’t name.

My grip loosens slightly.

"Nerissa..."

She doesn’t answer, she just stares at me.

Then her eyes shift, her pupils seem to lose focus and her face suddenly goes slack.

"Nerissa?"

Her eyes roll backward and her body goes completely limp in my arms.

My heart stops.

"Rissa?"

I catch her before she hits the floor.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Did I do too much?

The thought tears through me as I look down at her limp body. Her head rests against my arm, her face pale and completely still.

I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her into a bridal carry.

"Linda."

My voice comes out sharper than I intend.

She stares at Nerissa, visibly shaken.

"Call Rocco. Tell him I need him here. Like Now."

"Yes, Don."

I don’t wait for anything else. I turn toward the stairs, holding Nerissa tighter against my chest.

I climb quickly, every step making the panic in my chest worse.

I don’t know what happened to her but I’m not letting anything else happen to her now.