"Shut up." Nathan's attention stayed on me even as he addressed Gabriel. "You did this to her. Made her into something that can't tell love from ownership."
"I made her perfect." No apology in Gabriel's voice. "You tried to make her ordinary. Which one of us showed more respect for what she could be?"
I snarled, pressing harder against Nathan's grip. He was distracted by Gabriel, guard dropping, and I used it. Twisted free and drove my fist into his solar plexus, putting all my weight behind it. He folded, breath exploding out, and I was on him again.
"Don't talk about him." Punctuating words with blows. "Don't look at him. Don't exist near him."
But Nathan caught my wrists again, rolling us so I was pinned beneath him. Not hurting, just containing, his weight careful even now. Blood from his nose dripped onto my face, and I opened my mouth to catch it. Taste of copper and betrayal.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He said it like a promise, like prayer. "No matter what you do. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Coward." I spat blood back at him. His blood, marking him with his own weakness. "Too soft to do what's necessary."
"Yes." Simple agreement that stole my momentum. "Too soft when it comes to you. Gabriel's right about that much—I love you Bunny."
"Because you're human." Gabriel's voice came closer. He'd stood, moved despite the bullet wound, and I could see him in my peripheral vision. Swaying but upright. "Weak to the same needs you exploit in others. Rather poetic, really."
Nathan's jaw clenched. "Stay back. And shut the fuck up."
"Or what? You'll shoot me again? While she's watching?" Gabriel laughed, the sound dark and liquid. "We both know how that ends. She'll tear you apart before you can squeeze the trigger."
It was true. I could feel it in my bones, the absolute certainty that I'd destroy anything that threatened Gabriel. Not because I loved him—love was too simple a word for what we had built. But because he was mine to protect now. My creator, my owner, my perfectly terrible constant.
"Let me go." I writhed beneath Nathan, testing his grip. "Need to check on Daddy. Need to stop the bleeding."
"He's fine." Nathan's voice gentled marginally. "Shoulder wound. Painful but not fatal. I'm a better shot than that."
"Should have aimed for the head."
"Should have." Agreement that made something twist in my chest. "But I couldn't. Not with you there. Not with how you'd—" He stopped, swallowed hard. "I couldn't make you watch that."
"Sentimental fool." But Gabriel's voice held something like approval. "Still trying to protect her even as she tries to kill you. The family would be so disappointed in what you've become."
"What the fuck are you talking about you fucking asswipe?"
The words hit the air like another gunshot. Nathan's control slipped for just a moment, real rage flickering through. I used it, bucking hard enough to throw him off balance. We rolled, me ending up on top again, hands finding his throat.
"Don't threaten Daddy." Words that came from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. "Daddy is everything. Daddy is safety. Daddy is—"
"Lies." Nathan didn't fight my grip, just met my eyes steady. "Everything he told you is lies, Bunny. He isn't safety. He is the cage."
"Better a familiar cage than false freedom."
"Is it?" His hands came up to cover mine on his throat. Not pulling them away, just holding. "Is Gabriel's cage really better than what we were building?"
"What we were building was transport to sale." The words hurt coming out. "At least his cage comes with honesty about the locks."
Nathan made that broken sound again. I'd drawn more pain from him with words than with all my physical attacks combined.
"I would never sale you. I would never hurt you." Quiet admission. "Even if I had to die right now to prove that, I love you Bunny. No matter what lies he is filling your head with." His thumbs stroked across my knuckles, gentle even as I squeezed.
"Touching." Gabriel moved into full view, and I could see the damage properly. Bullet had torn through the shoulder, missing anything vital but painting him in red. He looked pale but steady, sustained by whatever chemical cocktail he'd been feeding us both. "But irrelevant. Feelings don't change facts."
"No, they don't." Nathan's gaze stayed on me. "But they change choices."
My hands loosened on his throat. Something in his voice, his eyes, the way he accepted death as a fair trade for my freedom—it didn't fit the narrative. Handlers preparing assets for sale didn't make those kinds of calculations.
"You're lying." But uncertainty crept in.
