"No!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You don't get to do this! You don't get to lock me away like some kind of—of breeding animal!"
"That's not what this is about."
"Isn't it?" She glares at me. "The moment you find out I'm pregnant, suddenly I'm under house arrest? Suddenly I need to be locked away for my own good?"
"You're carrying my child in a world where my enemies would pay millions to get their hands on you. This is about keeping you alive."
"This is about control!"
"Yes," I say quietly. "It is. Because control keeps the people I love breathing."
"I won't stay here," she says, her voice deadly calm. "I'll escape. I'll find a way out, and when I do, you'll never see me or this baby again."
"No, you won't."
"Watch me."
"Hannah, be reasonable?—"
"Reasonable?" Her voice rises to a dangerous pitch. "You want me to be reasonable about being imprisoned by the father of my child? You want me to smile and nod while you turn me into a captive breeding mare?"
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being honest! I will not be locked down like an animal. I will not be kept here against my will. And I sure as hell won't raise my child in a house where his father thinks women are property to be managed!"
"Our child," I correct. "And he'll be raised safely, which is more than I can say if you're running around Chicago making yourself a target."
"He?" She seizes on the pronoun. "You don't even know if it's a boy or a girl, but you're already planning his life? Already deciding what's best for him?"
"I'm deciding what's best for both of you."
"No." She shakes her head. "You're deciding what makes you feel most in control. There's a difference."
I run my hands through my hair, frustration boiling over. "I'm trying to keep you safe!"
"I don't want your protection!"
"Too fucking bad!"
The words explode out of me, loud enough to echo off the walls. Hannah goes very still, her eyes wide with something that might be fear or might be fury.
"Too bad," I repeat, quieter now but no less final. "You're pregnant with my child. That makes you mine to protect, whether you like it or not."
"I belong to myself," she says quietly.
"Not anymore."
I can see the exact moment she stops fighting and starts planning. The fury is still there, but it's colder now, more focused. More dangerous.
"I'll escape," she says again. "And when I do, I'll make sure you never find us."
"Try."
The single word hangs between us like a gauntlet thrown down. I can see in her eyes that she's already accepted the challenge.
I turn and walk toward the door, needing distance before I say something that will make this situation even worse.
"Dante," she calls when my hand is on the handle.
