I tapped my thumb against the wheel and let the silence fill the SUV. My mind, of course, was anything but quiet.
Her flinch.
The snap in her voice.
The look she gave me—right before she slammed that door like she thought it could shut me out.
Pure fire.
Untamed. Furious.
And burning for something she hadn’t even let herself name yet.
She thought she was strong.
Thought holding onto her pride made her untouchable.
But I knew better.
Strength didn’t come from resistance.
It came from knowing when to surrender.
And baby, she was getting close.
So damn close.
The streets rolled by in obedient lines of motion, traffic flowing like every piece on my board falling into place.
I let my mind wander…
Back to the way her voice cracked when she lied to herself.
Back to the way her body didn’t move when I touched her.
She was unraveling.
But not in the messy, screaming way people expect.
No, no.
Persephone was breaking like ice under pressure—quiet, dangerous, and sharp enough to draw blood.
I didn’t want her shattered.
I wanted her pliable.
Aware.
Willing.
And that was the real trick, wasn’t it?
Make her think she still had choices.
Let her struggle against the current.
And then, when she finally looked up—gasping, desperate—she realized she was swimming in my tide the whole damn time.
