HIS 6TH BRIDE FATAL OBSESSION

I knew what I was the moment Killian Thorne's black Mercedes pulled up outside our house.

Collateral.

My father had been sweating through his shirt all morning, pacing the length of our cramped living room like a caged animal. 

Mom hadn't said a word. She just sat in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a mug of cold coffee, staring at nothing. 

I wanted to shake her, scream at her to do something, say something, but what was the point? We both knew she wouldn't. She never did.

Lila was at school. I'd made sure of that. Told her I had errands to run, kissed her forehead, and promised I'd help her with her math homework later. The lie tasted bitter, but it was kinder than the truth.

I stood at the window and watched him step out of the car.

Killian Thorne didn't look like a monster. That was the first problem.

He was tall, broad shouldered, dark hair swept back like he'd just stepped out of some luxury magazine. His suit probably cost more than our house. He moved with the kind of confidence that came from never being told no, never having to worry about consequences. 

Men like him didn't live in the same world as people like us. They existed above it, looking down, deciding who stayed and who drowned.

Today, he'd decided I was worth keeping.

"Cassia." My father's voice cracked. He was trying to sound authoritative. Failing. "Come here."

I didn't move. Not yet. Let him sweat a little longer.

The doorbell rang.

My father lurched toward the door like a desperate dog, but I was faster. I stepped in front of him, met his bloodshot eyes, and smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.

"Let me," I said softly.

He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Good. He should be afraid of me. If I was going down, I'd make sure he remembered what it cost him.

I opened the door.

Killian Thorne stood on our crumbling porch like he owned it. Like he owned everything. His eyes found mine immediately, and I watched something flicker across his face. Interest. Hunger. 

Satisfaction.

I'd seen men look at me before. Grocery store clerks, my father's drinking buddies, boys at school who thought they had a chance. But this was different. 

Killian looked at me the way a collector looks at a rare piece he's been hunting for years.

Like I was already his.

"Mr. Thorne." I kept my voice steady, tilted my chin up just enough to show I wasn't cowering. "Please, come in."

His lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it had reached his eyes. "Cassia."

He knew my name. Of course he did. He'd probably known everything about me before he ever made the offer to my father.

He stepped inside, and the room suddenly felt smaller. My father practically tripped over himself, gesturing to our sad excuse for a couch, babbling apologies about the