Chapter 91 Yours Truly, Black Scorpion

• SERA
• I watched my husband with a dull ache blooming in my chest. Killian sat at the dining table, scowling at his bandaged wrist as he struggled to butter a slice of toast. The knife clinked against the plate, slipping again, and I saw his jaw tighten as though he was resisting the urge to hurl the whole thing across the room. It had been a week and five days since he came home. Two weeks since they strapped him down and pumped poison into his veins.
• His bruises were healing. The cuts had scabbed. He'd been eating and resting as much as a man like Killian could rest.