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"Charlotte, that's not true."

"It is true, and I don't have much left," she said. "If he takes my soul, I will shatter."

"No, I won't let him do this to you," Sin said, standing up.

"What do you mean, you won't let him do this to me?" she yelled. "He's already done it. You've seen my stomach and now my back. I'm mutilated. I'm a mess."

"No." He picked her up.

"What are you doing?" She kicked at him.

"I'm going to show you you're wrong." He carried her into the bathroom and sat her down, holding her, so her back was against his chest and she had to look in the mirror.

"Don't do this, Sin." She closed her eyes.

He lifted the sweatshirt. "Look," he commanded. His voice reverberated throughout the room, leaving no other option but to answer.

"No," she cried, turning her face to the side, "Don't make me do this. I told you I will shatter."

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to turn her head. "Then you will shatter, and I will shatter along with you, and we will find a way to piece each other back together."

She struggled against him, but it was no use.

"Open your eyes, darling," he said, lowering his voice. "I've got you and I love you."

She opened her eyes. The ugly red crest covered her stomach in vivid welts, telling a story of madness and pain.

"They're marks. They don't mean anything. It's not Sokolov." Sin held her tightly.

The sound that came out of her was more than a wail. It sounded foreign to her ears and far off. "I don't want it on me."

"I know you don't, but it is. And there is nothing you or I can do about it," he said. "Look at it, Charlotte."

She stared at it. All of it. The eight-pointed star, the thistles and the crown, the man, the saltire, the words. All of it. And then the pain returned too. The feel of the knife peeling back her skin hit her like an electric shock. She doubled over, screaming. "I'm going to be sick."

Sin helped her to the toilet. "Then be sick, darling. Let it out." He held her hair as she vomited over and over. The slice of the blade slashed her again, excruciating. Time reversed, hurtling her backward until she was back in the distillery strapped to the table. Faces hovered over her but none who could help. "I can't take the pain. Please make it go away." She continued to scream. "Find Sokolov. I need him. He can take the pain away."

"Charlotte." She heard someone shouting her name. "Charlotte," it said again. Sin was leaning over her. "He can't take it away, darling. He never could, and he never did. You did that."

"N-no. He did. He took it away."

"He didn't. It was just another thing he wanted you to believe." Tears filled his eyes. He pulled her up so she sat in his lap. "You took the pain away, my darling girl. Your body did that, not him. Just like you can take it away now."

She cried into his chest as he held her until she was numb and felt nothing. Sin picked her up and carried her to the bed. They lay facing each other. "How will I ever know what's real or fake?" she finally asked.

He wiped the last of her tears off her cheek with his thumb. "We're real, darling. You and I and the vows we took. Think of those when you want to know what's real."

"But I'm damaged," she said. "How could you love that?"

His gray eyes softened. "Christ, you're so beautiful. My selkie-eyed girl. I don't see any scars. I see strength, and one day you will too."

"This marriage was forced on both of us—"

His finger covered her lips, hushing her. "Aye, it was, but it's not now. I choose you and the vows I spoke."

"But—"

"Don't say anything. Not yet," he said, his voice cracking. "You're too raw. Let's give it time and let the glue dry a bit."

"The glue?" She took his hand, interlacing their fingers.

"Aye, the glue holding our shattered pieces together."

He pulled her close and kissed her. His free hand rested on her hip and the swell of her bottom, squeezing it softly. "I love you, Charlotte. I'm in love with you, darling. I loved you the moment I took you in the alley, I just didn't realize it then. You're mine, lass."

The air in the room had chilled, the only warmth coming from him, radiating through the hand she held. He was her anchor. He would keep her safe in the turbulent waters. Her hand brushed his cheek, rough from the new growth of his beard. "I'm yours."