The Bigshot's Superstar Wife

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.

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.