She lied to me.
Not with words, but with silence. With that burner phone, she thought I wouldn't notice. With the way she avoided my eyes after the call.
I know she's hiding something, it's evident. And in my world hiding is a threat.
The city glows beneath the windows, all lights and lies. I sit in silence, one hand gripping a tumbler of whiskey, it has already gone down by half, and it burns my throat.
She betrayed me.
Not in a way that screams, but in a way that cuts.
Deep and slow.
I should punish her for it.
But I don't know if I want to punish her…
Or claim her…
I find her sitting on the edge of the bed in one of my shirts, legs pulled up, eyes swollen from crying she thought I wouldn't see.
"You went behind my back," I say, voice low, calm, deadly.
She flinches. "I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me now. It insults us both."
I cross the room slowly. She doesn't move.
She's afraid.
But she's also defiant.
Good.
I kneel in front of her. "Tell me who you called."
Her breath shakes. "It was nothing."
"Wrong answer."
My hand closes gently around her throat. Not tight. Just enough to make her breath catch. Just enough to remind her who I am.
"You don't get to hide from me," I whisper. "Not after everything."
Her lips tremble. "What are you going to do?"
I lean closer, mouth brushing her ear.
"Whatever I want."
She shivers.
Not from fear.
From something darker.
Something neither of us wants to name.
I pull back just enough to see her eyes. "You belong to me, Serina. You don't get to decide when the rules apply."
She glares. "I never agreed to be yours."
"You didn't have to," I murmur. "You stepped into my world the second you opened that door. And now you don't get to leave it."
Her hands shake. But her voice doesn't. "You're obsessed."
I smile. Cold and slow. "I never pretended otherwise."
She doesn't look away.
God, she should.
Because if she keeps looking at me like that, I'll stop holding back.
And I don't know who will destroy first.
Her.
Or me.
Her stare holds mine, wild and reckless like she wants to break something, maybe me. Maybe herself.
"Let go of me," she whispers, voice raw.
But I don't.
Not yet.
Because she doesn't mean it. Not completely.
Her pulse beats fast beneath my fingers. Her lips are parted. I see it. The fear, yes. But underneath it, something else.
Curiosity.
Attraction.
Desire.
"I should be furious," I say, my thumb brushing against her jaw. "I should lock you in this room for days until you understand what loyalty means in my world."
Her breath hitches.
"But I won't." I pause. "Because I'm more dangerous when I'm calm."
I release her throat slowly. Her skin is flushed. Her eyes glazed.
She thinks she hates me. Maybe she even wants to. But she doesn't.
She wants me to ruin her.
And I will.
Just not the way she expects.
"I didn't call to betray you," she says suddenly, voice cracking. "I called to warn my brother. I thought—"
"You thought?" I snap, the calm cracking. "You thought you could protect someone without telling me?"
"I didn't want him dragged into this!"
"Too late," I growl.
Her fists clench. "He doesn't deserve this. None of this was supposed to happen. I was just—"
"In the wrong room," I finish for her. "Yeah. I remember."
I move to the edge of the bed, sit beside her, stare straight ahead.
The silence grows sharp.
"I killed the man who put your name on that list," I say after a long pause.
She turns to me, slowly. "What list?"
I look at her, jaw tight. "The one where they mark girls like you for leverage."
She pales. "You're lying."
I meet her gaze. "Do I look like I need to lie?"
She swallows hard, suddenly small beside me.
"You think this is a game," I say, voice dropping. "You think you can bend the rules and still survive."
I lean in, my breath grazing her ear.
"This world doesn't give second chances. You're only alive because I want you alive."
She turns her face to mine, trembling. But she doesn't back away. "Then what now?" she asks. "Am I your prisoner?"
"No."
"Then what am I?"
I don't answer.
Instead, I kiss her.
Not gently.
Not sweetly.
I take her mouth like I own it like punishing her with pleasure is the only language I speak.
She gasps, tries to pull back.
But I grip her waist, pull her onto my lap, kiss her deeper. Harder. Until her resistance burns into something else.
Until her hands are in my hair and her body arches into mine.
When I finally pull away, her lips are swollen. Her eyes wide.
"You're mine," I whisper, brushing my forehead against hers. "And that scares you more than anything."
She doesn't speak.
She doesn't have to.
Because silence is an answer, too.
Just when it was getting good, she stands up abruptly.
She doesn't speak.
But her eyes, those damn eyes, they say everything.
Regret. Anger. Longing. Fear.
All twisted together like a confession she can't bring herself to say out loud.
I'm left with a serious hard-on. Fuck.
I could walk away now. I should.
But instead, I take one step closer.
Then another.
Her back hits the edge of the marble island, and I swear she doesn't even notice. Her breathing is shallow, her arms tight across her chest like she's holding herself together.
Like if she lets go, she'll fall apart.
"I don't trust you," she says suddenly.
That's what I want.
"Then we're even," I reply. "Because I don't trust myself around you."
Her eyes flicker up. "Is that supposed to scare me?"
"No. It's supposed to warn you."
She stares at me like she's trying to see past the mask I wear for everyone else. I let her.
Just for a second.
In the quiet space between us, there's a truth neither of us wants to admit, and this thing between us isn't just a strategy anymore.
It's an obsession.
And obsessions don't end gently.
I reach up and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinches, but doesn't pull away. My fingers linger. Her skin is warm beneath my touch.
She exhales, shaky.
I move closer, pressing my hand flat against the counter beside her hip, boxing her in without touching her again.
"I told you not to use the phone," I say, voice low.
"I know."
"You didn't listen."
"I panicked."
I nod slowly. "And what happens next time you panic, Serina? Do you call someone else? Do you run?"
She bites her bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark. "No."
"No?" I repeat. "Or not sure?"
She meets my gaze. "I don't know what you want from me."
My voice is a whisper when I answer. "Honesty. Obedience. Survival."
She laughs, soft and bitter. "You can't have all three."
"I can. And I will."
And then she does something I don't expect, she leans forward.
Just enough that her lips nearly brush mine. Just enough to make it impossible to pretend this isn't happening.
Her voice is a breath. "Then take it."
I snap.
My lips crush hers before the word has even finished leaving her mouth.
There's no pretense. No pause. Just heat, teeth, and the kind of hunger that makes sanity evaporate.
Her hands tangle in my shirt. Mine grip her waist, then slide lower, pulling her flush against me.
She gasps, and I take it as an invitation, deepening the kiss, claiming every part of her mouth like it owes me something.
I lift her onto the dressing table again.
This time, she doesn't protest.
My hands slide beneath her thighs, urging her legs around me, and she obeys without thinking. Her body arches into mine like she's been waiting for this since the moment we met.
My hands wander underneath her shirt, I stroke her trying to giving her lips attention. She throws her head back with a moan.
Just when I let myself forget who I am and what this is she trembles.
Not from lust.
From something else.
I pull back.
Her eyes are glassy. Her chest rising and falling too fast.
And in that second, I remember.
She's not mine.
She's just surviving me.
And I'm not a man who's ever known the difference between love and possession.
I step away, sharp and sudden.
Her lips are red. Her breath is shaky.
But her eyes… they look like I just broke something.
"I didn't mean—" she starts, but I cut her off.
"Don't," I say tightly. "Just go to bed."
She hesitates.
Then slides off the counter and walks away.
This time, I don't watch her go.
Because if I do… I won't let her leave.
And if I don't stop this now.
I'll ruin her.
For good.