The Stranger I Married Chapter 20: I’m her husband

Nicholas didn’t know why he had turned the car around.

Maybe it was the way Ella had smiled at him — small, forced, like she was trying to pretend she was fine when she wasn’t. Maybe it was the unease gnawing at his gut ever since he drove off.

He told himself he would just check — just one more ti — to make sure she was really okay.

When he pulled up near the house again, he saw nothing unusual at first.

But then, through the cracked window, he heard it.

A groan.

Low. Broken.

Nicholas stilled, his entire body going rigid.

Another sound followed — a sharp cry, quickly muffled.

The world narrowed to a single point of focus.

Without thinking, he was out of the car and racing to the door. His heart slamd against his ribs with every step. His hand tried the doorknob — locked.

"Ella!" he shouted, pounding his fist against the wood. No answer — just another faint whimper from inside.

Panic roared in his blood, drowning out reason.

He stepped back and kicked the door in with a savage crack, the wood splintering under the force.

The sight that greeted him froze the breath in his lungs.

Ella was crumpled on the filthy floor, blood sared across her face and arms, her robe torn and dirty. She wasn’t moving — just a faint, pitiful rise and fall of her chest.

And standing over her — a scrawny man with wild eyes and blood on his knuckles — was the bastard responsible.

Nicholas didn’t even see Ryan at first — his entire being zeroed in on her.

He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he touched her battered cheek.

"Ella," he breathed, voice breaking. "I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe."

She moaned softly, eyelids fluttering.

"Who the hell are you?!" Ryan barked from behind him.

Nicholas turned, his eyes burning with a fury so absolute, it stunned the other man into silence.

"I’m her husband," Nicholas said, voice deadly calm. He slid his arms under Ella’s limp body, lifting her effortlessly against his chest.

"She belongs with ."

Ryan gaped at him, face flushing with rage and confusion. "You can’t just take her! She’s mine—"

Nicholas straightened to his full imposing height, holding Ella protectively against him, and fixed Ryan with a look so cold it could have frozen blood.

"Touch again," Nicholas said in a low, terrifying voice, "and I’ll break every bone in your body. You won’t even have ti to scream before I end you."

The sheer venom in the words — the promise of death behind them — made Ryan stumble back a step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

Nicholas didn’t waste another second.

While Ryan hesitated in shock, he moved, swift and sure, pushing past him and carrying Ella out the door.

Her head lolled weakly against his chest, and Nicholas tightened his grip around her, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

He could feel her blood soaking into his shirt.

He was going to kill that bastard.

But not now.

Ella ca first.

He reached the car and carefully settled her in the passenger seat, buckling her in with hands that were far gentler than they looked.

His fingers brushed over her bloodstained skin, lingering for a second longer than necessary, as if trying to will her strength back into her.

"I’ve got you," he whispered again, almost like a prayer.

He slamd the door shut, rounded the car, and slid into the driver’s seat, his hands shaking with the effort not to go back inside and tear Ryan apart with his bare hands.

But he didn’t.

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and drove.

Ella’s shallow breathing filled the car, each ragged sound another knife to his gut.

Nicholas had never known rage like this.

It burned inside him, hotter than any fire, until it was all he could do not to turn the car around and finish what he started.

But Ella — fragile, broken Ella — was the only thing that mattered right now.

Getting her sowhere safe. Sowhere clean. Sowhere she could heal.

He glanced at her again, jaw tightening at the bruises blooming on her skin, at the sar of blood drying at the corner of her mouth.

"I swear to you," he said quietly, his voice vibrating with fury and promise, "he’s going to pay for this."

Ella stirred weakly, her head shifting toward the sound of his voice.

Nicholas reached over without thinking, his hand finding hers and gripping it tightly.

Her fingers were cold and small against his.

He didn’t know if she could hear him — if she even knew he was there.

But he would stay.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever.