“Because this is the only way you'll feel safe.”
“You aren't worried I'll panic and shoot you?”
Light blue eyes held her gaze. “It's a concern. You control yourself well though.”
Her finger eased away from the trigger. The Phaedra was known for his complicated and terrifyingly effective mind games. The entire empire feared espionage campaigns and ruthless intelligence operatives. Miya didn't know what kind of tactics Zayne used on her, but she wasn't handing over her trust to him, not even when she wielded the weapon.
“Go on then.” Her skin had turned clammy. “I won't shoot you.”
“I have not and will not tell anyone this.” His look fell to the weapon and then rose to her eyes. “I know you're her royal highness, Oliviana Moress.”
Miya choked on her own breath, her robe suffocating her.
One step backward. Two.
Wincing, Zayne shifted his hands further from his body. “No one knows.”
Shivers crashed down her spine again and again, and she couldn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Not a single breath.
She dipped forward, body curling in on itself. A vain attempt at protecting against the unprotectable.
What did she do now?
No breath.
The captain's fingers crushed her windpipe again.
“Fuck,” Zayne said. “Miya.”
Oh, she felt dizzy.
No breath.
Dying. Miya was dying.
It was so much worse than someone discovering her and forcing her back to the palace, to bury her alive beneath all her father's lies. The Phaedra knew. This was the worst-case scenario, finally happening. How long before Zayne dragged her to Ciondo and threw her at the feet of their cruel emperor? Her father marked her long before any man, destined her to her mother's fate. A bargaining chip, his escape, a line on a treaty, anything he needed. Miya just wanted to escape him. She accepted the rest, all this shit, to never return, and now came the day she so long loathed.
“Miya.” Zayne's hard voice broke through her stupor, and she saw him looking at the gun.
Shaking. She shook terribly.
The handle burned in her hands now. She wanted to drop it. To run from death in any form.
“I didn't tell anyone,” Zayne repeated.
“You said that already.” Her voice sounded wild. So did her heartbeat. Miya pushed her hair back from her face, unable to gain back control of herself, this man, or this situation. Of her life.
“You seemed like you needed to hear it again. I'll open the window. You can—”
“No.” She stabbed her finger at him. “You don't move. Give me one minute. I'm not leaving or screaming or shooting you. I'm not a threat.”
“Neither am I.”
She laughed at that, and it sounded as out of control as her heart.
