Page 68 of Stand: Part One

“I didn’t know toddlers could do handstands,” I deadpanned, reminding him of my recent accomplishment the day before.

Darren continued to stare at me, unimpressed with my revelation.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

His gaze sharpened, daring me to challenge him further. “I am not.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples to ease the tension in my jaw. “Darren, we’ve been through this already. We agreed that you can’t keep babying me like this.”

He tilted his head. “That’s odd because I recall an entirely different conversation where we agreed that you would accept my recovery plan without complaint.”

“That was before I was recovered,” I emphasized.

“You’re recovered when I say you’re recovered. And no amount of whining will change that.”

I had to stop my jaw from hitting the floor. I was this close to hurling something at his head.

“I literally just completed the stairway challenge. That was the agreed upon criteria to graduate from physical therapy, remember?”

“Finishing your physical therapy program does not automatically mean you’re fully recovered, princess.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to avoid acting out my frustration, because I was this close to doing something stupid.

“That still doesn’t justify the surprise shock I just received a moment ago. You could have just asked me to stay out of the woods or at the very least warn me.”

Darren scoffed, his lips tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Like you said once before, you’re not very good at doing what you’re told. I know when you need to learn things the hard way to remember my rules.”

“So you’re worried I might trip over a fucking stick but have no qualms about the harms of electrocuting me?”

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” he snapped, the anger building behind his gaze instantly inflamed. “Your collar is currently on the lowest setting. A minor zap won’t kill you.”

I groaned loudly in annoyance. “Darren, I can’t take this anymore!” I nearly shouted into the air. “I’ve been trapped in this house for months, and I need a change of scenery before I lose my damn mind!”

Darren shook his head, the warning emanating from his body telling me I was close to getting my ass beat if I didn’t shut up.

“Enough, Jaden,” he barked. “Be grateful for the margins you are permitted. Like I said, you’re recovered when I say you are, so I suggest you stop mouthing off before I shrink the boundary even more.”

I glared back at him, my gaze holding his in a battle of wills I didn’t have a chance of winning. And because he knew this, he quickly dismissed me and turned his attention back to Clive and Owen.

I’d been cooped up inside the house for months, forbidden from training, barely allowed outside, and left to the dullest moments of my life, rotting in bed all day. I was going stir-crazy and needed to get the fuck out before I went on a domestic murder spree.

“That’s not what you said last time,” I snapped.

Darren’s eyes shifted back to mine, the promise of a swift demise hitting me like a ton of bricks if I didn’t stop. But I already had two servings of dumb bitch juice today so…here we are.

“Last time, I decided when I was ready.”

He slowly shook his head at me, a lethal fire burning behind those dark irises of his. “Careful, my mouthy little wife. Last time, you weren’t recovering from a bullet wound.”

I practically snarled back at him. “No, just the broken bones my doting husband so thoughtfully gave me.”

An evil sneer crept along said husband’s lips, chilling my blood instantly.

“Exactly,” he growled, the warning tone hard to miss.

Sensibility finally smacked me in the face at the subtle threat, my last reminder that Darren was not a man affected by guilt or remorse. What he was affected by was the enjoyment of bringing my worst nightmares to life, and I was dangerously close to reliving one. Again.

Fuck.