The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Husband & Wife

When did he come? I did not even notice his aura.

“Did you know?” he asked suddenly between strikes, his voice calm despite the chaos of their fight.

“Know what?” Athena shot back, ducking under a horizontal swing and countering with a sharp thrust that he narrowly avoided.

“Who I truly am.”

She didn’t answer immediately, using the opening to spin and aim for his exposed side. He blocked it effortlessly, their blades locking as they stared at each other once more.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she hissed, her voice low but laced with defiance.

Mors leaned in slightly, his silver sword pressing harder against Arthivian. “Then we’re both full of secrets, aren’t we?”

Athena’s smile returned, wild and unrelenting. “Secrets make life interesting.”

With a surge of strength, she broke their lock and leaped back, rain splashing around her as she steadied herself.

Mors stood across from her, his posture calm but his eyes still sharp, calculating.

The storm raged on, the battlefield illuminated sporadically by lightning. For a moment, the two combatants were still, their breaths visible in the cold night air.

It wasn’t a fight for survival anymore. It was a confrontation of identities, a clash of truths that neither was ready to fully reveal.

And in the silence between thunderclaps, the night seemed to hold its breath for what would come next.

Will he kill me?

Mors closed the distance between them with a swiftness that left Athena no time to react.

Before she could fully comprehend his intent, he disarmed her with a calculated movement, his silver blade knocking Arthivian to the ground.

The sword vanished and returned to Athena’s space.

In a heartbeat, she found herself pinned, her back pressed against the wet tree. Mors loomed before her, his silver sword pointed just inches from her throat.

His eyes no longer carried the icy malice from moments ago but instead held a strange mix of calmness and authority.

“Let’s go home, wife,” he said, his tone soft yet firm as if the fight that had just occurred was nothing more than a passing storm.

Athena blinked up at him, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The sudden shift in his demeanor left her stunned.

Only minutes ago, they had been locked in a deadly duel, their blades singing in the storm. Now, his expression was unreadable, his posture unthreatening but commanding.

“Home?” she echoed, her voice laced with disbelief. “We were just trying to kill each other, and now you want to play the doting husband?”

Mors didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, with a casual motion, he sheathed his sword and extended a hand. His cloak materialized seemingly out of nowhere, its rich, dark fabric shimmering faintly in the rain.

Without waiting for her consent, he draped it over her shoulders, the heavy material instantly warming her chilled skin.

“Don’t catch a cold,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentler timbre as he adjusted the cloak around her.

Athena stared at him, her body tense under his care. Her mind raced to reconcile the man standing before her with the one who had just swung a blade at her with lethal precision.

“What is this game you’re playing?” she asked, her voice sharper now, her instincts still screaming at her to stay on guard.

Mors leaned in slightly, his gaze steady and unyielding as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “No games, Athena. Just taking care of my wife.”

The words sent a shiver through her, not from the cold, but from the weight they carried.

She shook her head, pushing herself to her feet as she shrugged off his hand. “You expect me to just walk away with you after that? Explain yourself.”

Mors tilted his head, the rain dripping from his dark hair as he studied her.

“You’re asking for explanations from someone you don’t trust. Would you believe me if I told you everything now?”

Athena clenched her fists beneath the cloak, frustration simmering in her chest. “You can’t just switch from enemy to protector like this. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing about us makes sense,” Mors said simply, taking a step back to give her space. “But for now, let’s leave this place. There are worse things in these woods than us, Athena.”

She hesitated, her sharp eyes searching his face for any signs of deceit. His expression remained calm, unreadable, and maddeningly sincere.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice begrudging. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Mors smirked faintly, the first sign of amusement breaking through his stoic demeanor. “It never is with you.”

Together, they began to walk through the rain-soaked forest, the storm raging around them.

Despite the lingering tension between them, Athena couldn’t deny the peculiar sense of safety that settled over her with his cloak around her shoulders.

Still, the questions burned in her mind, unanswered and gnawing at her.

Who exactly was Mors Jericho? And why did her instincts tell her that he was far more dangerous, and far more complicated than he let on?

–

The soft glow of a lantern, lit their small room, casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls.

Athena sat by the edge of the bed, her damp hair draped over her shoulders. The storm outside had subsided into a steady drizzle, but the chill of the rain lingered in the air.

Instead of lying down to rest, Athena methodically ran a towel through her hair, her movements slow and deliberate as her mind remained on edge.

The door creaked open, and she glanced up to find Mors stepping inside, his presence filling the space with quiet authority.

Without a word, he crossed the room, his sharp gaze taking in her unfinished task.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry it properly,” he remarked, taking the towel from her hands with an ease that startled her.

Athena raised a brow as she watched him sit beside her. “Have you done this before? You look proficient,” she asked, her tone both curious and wary.