She looked stricken.
"Namor, we don't have children. We've been trying, but we don't have children yet. If everything goes well this time, we will in eight months, but..." She drew her hands to her midsection. Hate? He hated her? Just a few nights ago he'd told her he loved her. In their bed. In their house. How did she end up in a cage, with him speaking such lies? And the bruises? He'd never hit her before. Had he changed?
"I don't know what you're talking about. Daughters?" Emma tried to reach with her mind to find out what was going on and got nothing. Not just silence, but an absence. It was as though she'd tried to move her arm and found her arm immobile.
"Who are you? WHO ARE YOU? You're not Namor!"
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