I pulled away from his touch before it could undo me completely.
"Starting to isn't good enough." I held his gaze, my voice steady even as everything inside me trembled. "Not yet."
He dropped his hand. The rawness in his eyes shuttered, replaced by something harder. Colder. The mask sliding back into place. “Angelo will be here soon to take the shard.”
The blood drained from my face. The room tilted—just slightly, just enough to make me grip the edge of the bed to keep from swaying. Angelo Santi. Coming here. To wherever here was. And I was in it, neck-deep, with a bite mark still throbbing on my throat and no way out.
"Rocco, you have to let me go."
I had to get off this boat. If I could get back to the Academy, I could talk to Costin before Angelo arrived. Costin would be furious about the shard, but he’d understand—he’d have to. It was the only play that kept Rocco alive.
He held my stare. Didn't move. Didn't blink.
"I can't, Selena. You're threatening to go to Costin."
The words landed like a cell door slamming shut.
So that's what this was. I wasn't his mate. I wasn't the woman he wanted. I was his prisoner. Trapped in his game, locked in by the very bond I'd spent years wishing he'd acknowledge.
He'd finally let me in—just not the way I'd imagined.
Now I was hunted prey.
Chapter Fourteen
Selena
If I was going to be a prisoner, forced to be on the run with a man who couldn’t decide if I was his mate or his hostage, then I’d better know what the stakes were. Because right now, I was risking everything—my safety, my freedom, my life—for a shard I barely understood and a plan I hadn’t agreed to.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the headboard, putting as much distance between us as the room would allow. “Why does he want the shard anyway?”
Rocco’s gaze cut to the door, then back to me. Checking. Always checking. “For his daughter.”
I blinked. His daughter. She was just a baby—couldn’t be more than a few months old. “Noelle? I don’t understand. Is she sick?”
He shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the casual gesture. “He wouldn’t tell me. Just wanted the shard. What exactly is its power?”
I held his gaze for a long moment, wondering how much to tell him. He looked wrecked—dark circles carved beneath hiseyes, his shirt still stained with my blood, his whole body wound tight enough to snap. He’d lied about why he asked me to the party, knocked me out and now made me his prisoner. Trust wasn’t exactly flowing freely right now.
But beneath the exhaustion, beneath the mask, I could see the fear he was trying to hide. Not for himself. For his mother.
Damn him for making it so hard to stay angry.
If Angelo Santi wanted this badly enough to send Rocco after it—badly enough to make deadly offers and manipulate strings for his infant daughter—then whatever was happening to Noelle was serious. And if I was already neck-deep in this mess, I might as well understand what I was drowning in.
“It shields someone from demons.” I watched his face carefully as I spoke. “Prevents demons from ever possessing or stealing their soul.”
Rocco went still. Completely, utterly still.
The color drained from his face. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“Rocco?”
“If I’d had that...” His voice splintered. “Two years ago. If I’d had that shard, the demon never could have—” He stopped. Swallowed hard. “I never would have hurt my mother.”
My heart cracked open. All this time, he’d been carrying the guilt of what he’d done while possessed. And now he’d just learned there was something that could have prevented it entirely.
“You didn’t know,” I said softly. “No one knew.”
