Not commanded.
Begged.
I shook my head once.
Blood slid over my fingers, making the knife slick.
“I am not your prisoner,” I signed one-handed, the other still holding the blade firm. “Not again.”
Ethan translated, voice breaking.
Ruslan shot to his feet.
The movement was so sudden the chair scraped violently against the marble behind him. For the first time since he had walked into the room, something cracked across his face.
Not anger.
Panic. Raw. Unfiltered.
“Stop.”
His voice cut through the space like a gunshot.
I didn’t hesitate.
I pressed the blade harder against my wrist.
Pain exploded up my arm.
Red dripped onto the white marble in heavy, uneven drops.
The room seemed to lurch around me.
Ruslan’s gaze locked onto my wrist.
“Fine!” he barked suddenly, the word ripping from him as if dragged out by force. “You can go with them.”
I blinked.
The words hit harder than the knife ever had.
He agreed?
Just like that?
I had expected resistance. Threats. Another display of power. Another attempt to trap me inside this house with contracts and control.
Not surrender.
Not so quickly.
He shifted his attention to Dario.
For a long second, something passed between them.
It wasn’t spoken.
It wasn’t visible to anyone else.
