Or rather, I have too many answers, and none of them make sense.
Because I was scared.
Because I didn't want to leave my family behind.
Because some twisted part of me wanted to know if you'd survive.
Why the fuck didn’t I try to leave then? It’s not like I hadn’t thought about escaping a million times.
"I don't know," I whisper.
His hand gently cups my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. In the darkness, his eyes are nearly black, endless, and consuming.
"Yes, you do."
His thumb traces along my cheekbone, feather-light. "You stayed because you know what I know."
"And what's that?"
“You belong here.” A pause. “With me.”
I step back, breaking his touch. "I don't belong to anyone."
"Not yet." He doesn't follow me. Just watches with that predatory patience that's somehow more unsettling than aggression would be. "But you will."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise."
We stare at each, the grandfather clock ticking somewhere in the darkness, measuring out the seconds of this strange standoff.
I could still run. The door is right there. He's injured, slow, and probably couldn't catch me if I sprinted.
But my feet don't move.
"Go back to bed, Valentina," he says finally. The command is gentle, almost tired. "We both know you're not leaving tonight."
I want to argue. Want to prove him wrong. Want to show him that I'm not the obedient captive he thinks I am.
Instead, I ask about his pain… something is seriously wrong with me. "You shouldn't be out of bed. Your stitches—"
"Are fine."
"The Doctor said,"
"Don’t worry about what Dr. Drew said." His expression is soft. "You're worried about me."
"I'm worried about what happens to my family if you die and your brothers decide to take their grief out on us."
The lie sounds hollow even to my own ears.
He smiles, and it transforms his face. I realize I had never seen him smile before. "Liar."
"I'm not lying."
"You forget, Bella." He closes the distance between us again, and this time I don't step back. "I see everything. Including theway you looked at me.” Then he stops and stares into my eyes and corrects himself, “The way you look at me."
Heat floods my cheeks.
