My hands tremble as I hug my arms around myself, the old ache in my thigh throbbing in time with my pulse.
“There will be a guard outside at all times,” Cato continues. “You’ll get three meals a day and necessities, but when the door opens, two people will be present, and one will have a fucking taser. By all means, give them a reason to use it.”
I nod absently, the ringing in my ears drowning out everything else.
Cato hesitates when I don’t argue. “Is there anything you need?”
“Water,” I mutter without looking up. “A change of clothes. Soap, toothpaste.” My fingers dig into my thigh. “A razor.”
He snorts. “Like I’m handing you a weapon.”
I finally meet his eyes, forcing myself to hold that piercing gaze as I take in the rest of him.
His broad, powerful frame fills the doorway like he owns the space, and his jaw is sharp enough to cut glass. He has a neatly groomed beard that screams control even when everything else about him feels like barely leashed chaos.
Pink pitted scars cover his entire right arm and climb his neck onto his jaw and cheek, licking up his skin like burns long healed. They don’t detract from his looks. If anything, they only make him moreruggedandinteresting.
It pisses me off more that I notice how godsdamn handsome he is.
ThatBashnoticed.
I hate him for it.
“If I wanted to hurt you,” I say with a deliberate edge, “I wouldn’t need a blade.”
His smirk deepens, carving a dimple into his cheek. “You want to hurt me right now. Don’t even try to deny it. I see how you look at him. Weallsee how you look at him.”
“And how is that?” I demand.
“Like you didn’t throw him away,” he says as his expression turns smug. “Like he still belongs to you.”
“He’llalwaysbelong to me,” I snap, rising to my full height so we stand eye to eye.
He tilts his head in silent challenge, waiting for me to make a move.
My gaze flicks down his broad frame with a snarl. “Take whatever scraps he offers and pretend they’re enough. But deep down, where itmatters? He’ll wish it was me.”
My finger jabs into his chest with enough power to bruise, but he doesn’t flinch as I inch closer.
“You’llneversmell or taste right. Your body will always be too thick for the fantasy to be real, but he’ll close his eyes and fight through it. He’ll bite backmyname and picturemyface. Time will never change that, no matter how much you want it to. You’re just a placeholder, and you know it.”
Cato remains unfazed, his smirk only sharpening before he spreads his arms in a mocking bow, deliberately exposing the back of his neck. It’s an intentional taunt, daring me to act while knowing full well I’m checkmated.
If I hurt Cato, I hurt Bash.
“I’ll get your things,” he says, turning toward the door. “Make yourself comfortable. Dom will be…occupiedfor a while.”
The door closes behind him, leaving only the thin strip of light beneath it to pierce the darkness.
My body deflates as I collapse onto the bed. The punch of leather from my armor rises sharp in my nose, and it clings to me like smoke.
The uniform is a second prison.
It's a constant reminder of everything I no longer am, and everything it tried to forge me into.
A growl builds low in my throat, rumbling up from the depths of my chest before morphing into a broken whine. I surgeto my feet in a rush of fury, hands shaking so violently it takes three fumbling attempts to free the first buckle.
My fingers are slick with sweat, and tears stream hot down my face as I rip the chestpiece away from my skin. The leather protests with a final snap, and I hurl it against the wall with a raw shout that echoes through the room.
