"Stop." She reached for something—weapon, phone, restraint. "Don't make this difficult."
"Difficult?" I actually smiled, felt it sharp on my face. "Lady, you have no idea what difficult looks like. You want to see what happens when you corner something that was magnificent in its rage before it learned control?"
"The most dangerous creatures are the ones who choose not to bite."
He'd said that once, watching me kneel despite every instinct screaming defiance. Had touched my throat where collar met skin, felt my pulse racing with suppressed violence. Had smiled like a man who'd tamed something lethal without defanging it.
Time to prove him right.
The footsteps grew closer. She divided her attention between me and the stairs. That moment of distraction was all I needed.
Not to attack—that's what she expected. What the old Lilah would have done. Instead, I moved with the trained grace he'd given me, silent and swift toward the back of the house. Toward what had to be a kitchen, an exit, a chance.
"Hey!" She pursued, but I had a head start and desperation and the ghost of his voice telling me I was magnificent.
The kitchen opened before me—industrial, cold, all steel and sharp edges. Back door visible beyond an island covered in knife blocks and cutting boards. So close. So possible.
But she caught up, grabbed for me again. This time, I didn't just pull away.
I turned. Faced her. Let her see what Gabriel had seen that first day—not rage unfocused but fury refined. Not a broken doll but a dangerous thing choosing its moments.
"You want to know the difference between me and the others?" I asked, backing toward those knife blocks. "They were probably grateful. Probably thought submission meant acceptance. Probably forgot they had teeth."
Her hand went to her pocket again, but I was already moving. Not for weapons—too expected. For the heavy cutting board, swung with precision he'd taught me. Connected with her reaching arm, sent whatever she'd been grabbing clattering across tile.
"But Gabriel didn't want grateful." I kept the board between us, makeshift shield. "He wanted fierce. Wanted someone who'd submit by choice and remember how to bite when necessary."
"You're mine. That means I protect what's mine. Even from yourself. Even when I'm not there."
The last memory hit hardest. Spoken that final night, wrapped around me like prophecy. He'd known. Known someone might come. Known I might be tested. Known I'd need to remember that being his didn't mean being helpless.
It meant being strong enough to stay his.
"You crazy bitch," she snarled, cradling her injured arm. "He abandoned you. Left you for anyone to take. You're defending someone who threw you away."
"No." Certainty filled me, warm and absolute. "He set me free. To see if I'd choose to stay his. To prove I could protect myself until he came back."
Because he would come back. Had to. This was just another test, another lesson, another way to prove I'd internalized everything he'd taught. That I could be soft for him but steel for others. That submission was choice, not weakness.
That I was worth keeping forever.
The back door beckoned. She stood between me and it, but injured now. Wary. No longer seeing easy prey but something with teeth temporarily sheathed.
Footsteps on the stairs. Male voice calling out. Time up, chances fading.
But I smiled. Real this time. Sharp and sure and full of the fire he'd fallen for.
"Want to see what else Gabriel taught me?" I asked, grip tightening on my makeshift weapon. "Want to find out what happens when you try to steal what's his?"
She lunged.
I swung.
And the fire he'd refined but never extinguished roared back to life.
Chrysalis
The cutting board connected with her skull with a sound like dropped fruit. She staggered, eyes going wide with shock that I'd actually done it. That the broken doll had teeth after all.
