Chapter 13

The words "always chaste" struck Rowan's heart like thunderbolts. Ava wasn't pregnant. She wasn't defiled. She didn't even have anyone else. She had returned to him bearing the injuries she suffered for him and a heart full of love, only to be driven to her demise step by step by his suspicion, insults, and violence. He remembered the redness and swelling on the back of her hand when scalding milk was thrown on her; her straight spine when she was forced to kneel on the cold ground; the gruesome sight of her flesh torn open by the black whip. Most of all, he recalled her final look—calm and deathly still—when he pointed at Lia without hesitation in front of the kidnappers. What had he done? Rowan let out a despairing roar that sounded inhuman. He sprung up from his chair and delivered a fierce kick to a nearby metal barrel, creating a loud crash. His eyes were bloodshot, and his veins bulged on his forehead. He gasped for breath as he leaned against the wall, but he felt like