My chest rises and falls too fast. “I don’t need this.”
“Yes, you do,” he replies, and his tone leaves no room for argument.
I shake my head, tears still clinging. “You can’t just take me.”
His gaze sharpens. “I can.”
The words hit like a slap. I flinch, then anger flickers through the fear.
“I’m not your prisoner,” I snap.
Orpheus steps closer, and the air changes. Not threatening. Focused.
“You’re not,” he says, voice lower now. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re not a toy. You’re not an employee tonight.”
My throat tightens. “Then what am I?”
He hesitates.
Just for a fraction of a second.
That hesitation tells me more than any answer could.
“Mine,” he says finally, and the word is quiet, but it lands heavily.
My stomach flips.
I should demand he open the door and take me back, even if it means walking into a house that’s been violated.
But I can’t stop thinking about the note.
About Talos.
About the way my old name looked on that paper.
My hands start shaking again.
Orpheus sees it. He swears softly, then closes the distance, gripping my shoulders gently but firmly.
“Look at me,” he says.
I lift my eyes.
His expression is intense, but there’s something else underneath it.
Something protective to the point of obsession.
“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he says.
I swallow, voice small. “You don’t know what you’re promising.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I do.”
I laugh weakly. “No, you don’t.”
Orpheus’s jaw tightens. “Tell me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
