Years of marriage is what it took for you to finally realise that Slade Wilson was a lost cause.

Nothing you could do would ever make him change. It wouldn't stop the lying, the advantageous manipulations, the scorned outlook he seemed to have on the world. How foolish you had been to set yourself on a quest to save him, believing that your genuine love for one another would grant him the opportunity to walk away from this all. But he never took it. Never wanted to, no matter how many nights you deluded yourself into thinking the next time would be different. His code mattered more to him than you ever would, and nothing you could do would change that.

So you left him. Forced him to sign the divorce papers and packed away your things. A decade of marriage, of loving him, of being loved by him, and it had all slipped between your fingers like the passage of time itself. And it wasn't easy; it was the hardest thing you had ever done. It was a struggle to get your life back on track, though you certainly tried to fill that emptiness with something other than shame and aching remorse.

But Slade wasn't a man who took no for an answer. After all, you were his, and he didn't like to let his things stray too far.

"You cut your hair," he hummed in a disinterested tone, as though he didn't actually care. You knew he didn't; he was just trying to change the subject, as he stood blocking the doorway to prevent you from getting past. From leaving. Because he'd let you go once, and he wasn't going to let it happen a second time. He'd gone as far as to sedate you in your sleep to get you here. His arms crossed over his chest, humming lowly. "You're not getting out, love. Windows are locked and you don't have a key. Not that it matters when we're five floors up."

His lip barely twitched in amusement, and it made your spine stiffen. Slade had always been dangerous, but now? Now you were scared.

"I have the means to keep you here comfortably," he murmured, his tone taking a dark turn. "And the means to not."