Her chin lifts despite the shaking. Defiant. She looks me over like she wants answers, not mercy.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
Her eyes snap to mine. She thinks she’s hiding her thoughts, but they flicker over her expression: disbelief, fear, anger, confusion. The combination shouldn’t be compelling.
I take a step closer.
She flinches but doesn’t look away. That alone sends heat sliding under my ribs.
“You’re scared,” I murmur. “You should be.”
The words land hard enough that I see her breath catch. Her spine straightens by an inch.
“You kidnapped me,” she whispers. “I have every right to be scared.”
The truth only sharpens her defiance.
I lean in slightly, letting her feel the weight of my presence. “I brought you here because you keep walking into danger you don’t understand.”
Her lips part—a protest forming—then she forces them shut. Control, even now. I trace the movement, fascinated.
“You should have stayed away,” I add.
She swallows, throat tight. “You didn’tletme stay away.”
A breath of amusement escapes me. “No. I didn’t. You fell so perfectly into my trap.”
Her anger flares. It dances vividly across her features, raw and unfiltered. She hates being powerless. She hates being cornered. She hates being wrong.
She’s more afraid ofnot understanding methan she is of the guns, the shadows, or the men who dragged her here.
That—God help me—is what keeps pulling me in.
I take another step, close enough that she presses back against the wall for space.
“You saw something you shouldn’t have,” I say evenly. “But you’re here because you didn’t stay away from it.”
She glares up at me. “You mean I didn’t obey.”
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
“What word would you use?” she snaps.
I smile—slow, dangerous. “Curiosity got the better of you, it seems.”
Her heartbeat stutters. I don’t need to touch her to feel it. It radiates off her, pulsing through the air between us.
I should end this. I should do what I do to every witness who risks my world. I should lean in, press a gun to her throat, and watch the fear sharpen into silence.
The thought of harming her curls inside me, wrong in a way I can’t tolerate.
I step back.
The air shifts instantly. She gasps quietly, relief and confusion tangling in her breath. My men stay silent near thevan entrance, watching like statues. They’ve never seen me hesitate. They’ve never seen me hold back.
They wouldn’t understand it even if they tried.
Before I can speak again, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the caller ID: Viktor.
