But I’mso tiredof shrinking.
“Then explain it to me,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks a lot like another cage.”
His eyes flash—something dark and dangerous skating across his features before he locks it down. “So you’re admitting you were in a cage before? With who?”
Fuck.
“Don’t throw this on me.” I deflect quickly. “You broke into my apartment. Threw away my phone. Bought me clothes without asking. Decided where I’m allowed to go.” I take a breath, ignoring the sharp protest from my ribs. “You’re trying to own me and that’s not happening.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me.
Then his mouth curves into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You’re right.”
The admission catches me off guard.
“Iamowning you,” he continues, voice dropping lower. “Because the alternative is burying you.”
My throat tightens. “You don’t get to make choices for me.”
“Already did.”
The certainty in his voice makes my pulse spike. I grip the phone tighter, like it’s some kind of anchor keeping me from drifting completely into his orbit.
“I have responsibilities,” I try again. “People who depend on me—”
“Your little family?” He cuts me off. “Fuentes, Cross, and the redhead? Already checked on them. They’re fine.”
Ice floods my veins. “You what?”
“Hunted them down while you were missing.” His gaze sharpens. “They were honest. So they get to keep breathing.”
The casual way he says it—like he was deciding whether to spare their lives over coffee—makes my stomach twist.
They were honest.How honest?
“You had no right—”
“I had every right.” He takes another step closer. “You disappeared for three days. You think I was just gonna sit around and wait?”
“Yes!” The word comes out sharper than I intend. “That’s exactly what normal people do. Especially over a stranger. They don’t hunt down everyone in someone’s life and threaten them.”
His laugh is dark. Humorless. “Beda, I’m not normal people. And you knew that the second you refused to get out of your car. Why didn’t you just get the fuck out when I told you to?”
“I wasn’t going to let you steal mycar—”
“And I’m not letting you leave this house.”
I take in a sharp painful breath. Cross my arms over my chest.
“No.”
He moves faster than I expect, closing the distance in less than a blink. His hand clamps around my jaw, not bruising but unyielding, his thumb pressing into the soft hinge beneath my ear. He tilts my face up, forcing my gaze to lock with his, and the intensity in his eyes is like staring directly into the heart of a furnace. For a split second the world narrows to just this—his grip, his breath on my lips, the faintest tremor in his fingers where he refuses to let anything slip.
“You arestayinghere,” he says, each word deliberate.
I could break free. Maybe. My hands are empty, but I’ve spent a lifetime learning how to squirm out of bigger traps than this. Still, I hold still, out of spite.
I want him to know I’m not afraid. I want him to know that if he wants to keep me, he’ll have to fight for every damn inch.
