The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 600

Franco wrapped his arms around Petty from behind, pulling her flush against his chest. She could feel the steady, thudding rhythm of his heartbeat against her spine—strong and just a fraction too fast.

Pity?

It had been a long time since she let herself dwell on the emotions of their three-year marriage. Yet, hearing Franco beg for her pity forcefully dragged her back to the girl she was four years ago—the one who had been so desperately eager to marry him.

The girl who had foolishly hoped he might actually fall in love with her.

The girl who had spent countless nights waiting for him in the attic at Misty Vale.

Even after learning the truth about his inner demons and what really happened on the island five years ago, she couldn't erase the past.

The crushing disappointment, the pathetic yearning for his pity—it had all been agonizingly real.

"I don't have any pity left to give you," Petty said, her voice laced with deliberate cruelty. She wrenched her hand away, trying to pry his fingers off her waist one by one. "If you want to rot in the abyss, fine. Just don't drag me down with you."

But the disparity in their physical strength was undeniable. Franco was powerfully built, a man of raw, formidable strength. Petty couldn't even make a dent in his iron grip.

She was forced to stand there as his low, gravelly voice poured into her ear. "You told Hans you're reporting to the TV station tomorrow. That means you're not staying here tomorrow night, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she snapped. "And that's my business. Didn't you say Misty Vale was my territory now? I can live wherever I damn well please. It's none of your business!"

"You told me last night you wouldn't appear in front of me unless absolutely necessary. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. The expiration date on your promises is awfully short."

The howling wind rattled the glass panes around them, heavy with the weight of the driving snow.

"Since you're leaving, I suppose you won't be going out of your way to see me anymore," he murmured, the words sounding like a quiet confession spoken as much to himself as to her.

Petty redoubled her efforts to break his hold. But the second she managed to pry one of his fingers loose, he smoothly shifted his grip, weaving his fingers through hers and locking their hands together in an inescapable clasp.