— You know what? I squeaked, drawing strength from the hatred of my husband's name. - He just doesn't give a shit about me. And always has been. So go ahead and kill me. You're doing a favor for him and me. Especially me, to be honest. Especially me!

My kidnapper stopped the hysteria quickly: he caught my face with one hand, fixing it so that he could look into my eyes, stared silently for about a minute, as if tasting my hatred, being filled with it, charging, and then suddenly fell a kiss on my lips.

He groaned, and it seemed to me that for the first time in...