“Too late for that, Vi.”
His hands shift at my waist, sliding just a fraction lower, settling where he can guide my body exactly where he wants it. Not forceful. Just... certain.
“This is where you decide,” he says.
“Decide what?”
“Whether you fight what’s happening,” he says, “or whether you use it to your benefit.”
My pulse jumps. “And if I fight it?”
“Then you’ll bleed for this place,” he replies. “It won’t be pleasant. And eventually, you’ll lose.”
“And if I use it?”
His gaze sharpens. “Then you become someone people can’t ignore. Believe me, it’s preferable. Unless you don’t want to survive.”
Heat spreads through me again, part fear, part something else entirely. God, I wish he’d stop touching me. I can’t fucking think straight.
“You make it sound simple,” I manage to say.
“It’s not,” he says.
“I don’t trust you,” I say.
“Good,” he replies. “You shouldn’t.”
“Then why should I listen to anything you say?”
He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching mine. “Because I’m the one standing between you and everyone else who’s noticed you,” he murmurs. “And right now, that’s the only thing keeping you alive.”
I shiver. “You’re not going to let me go?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Even if I ask?”
“Even then. Besides, you know asking would be a waste of everyone’s time.”
I lift my chin, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “That’s not protection. That’s ownership.”
“Here,” he says, “they’re the same thing.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. My knee aches. My wrists sting where the rope bit. But all I can think about is how close he is. How warm his hands are. How his breath brushes my skin when he speaks.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Now,” he says slowly, “you sit. You rest that knee. And then, you start learning how to move through this place without getting swallowed by it.”
He releases my waist slowly, his hands lingering for just a moment before he steps back. The absence of his touch is sudden. Disorienting.
“There’s a bench,” he says, gesturing to the narrow platform along the wall. “It’s not comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”
I glance at it, then back at him. “You’re leaving me here?”
“Not for long,” he replies. “I’ll be back.”
“When?”
