I leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that scraped against her skin. “You’ve already tasted it. That rush. That edge. Me. You’re already halfway mine.”
She looked like she wanted to scream. Or cry. Or kiss me. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t walk out that door. Not tonight. Not ever.
“Stop pretending,” I said, low and deadly now. “You know exactly what you want.”
And right then, in that perfect breath of silence where every heartbeat hit like a drum—I saw it.
The moment she cracked.
And fuck if it didn’t make me burn.
I set the ring on the table. Let the light catch on it—clean, sharp, cold. A beacon. A warning. A fucking dare.
“Five minutes,” I said, voice flat as a blade. “Make your decision.”
Then I turned and walked out. Didn’t look back. Didn’t wait for some dramatic gasp or plea.
The door clicked behind me like a gun being cocked. Final. Absolute.
I didn’t pace. Didn’t shake. Didn’t second-guess shit.
She wanted time?
This was it.
Five minutes to burn her old life down—or crawl back to it with her tail between her legs.
I leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, breath slow and controlled.
But inside?
Everything was fire.
I could see her in my head—eyes flicking from that ring to the reflection of herself in the glass.
Wondering who the fuck she was now.
Delgado’s doll? Or mine?
Back in that room, she was staring down a decision bigger than any “yes” or “no.”
It was identity. It was rebellion.
It was choosing to become someone new—someone no one could own but me.
She wanted out? I gave her the door.
But this?
This was the lock.
And the ring?
The fucking key.
I let the silence stretch, thick and coiled, every second screaming louder than the last.
She was scared. Of course she was.
