Page 138

His apologetic tone vanishes. “I told you not to go to the police. The Order is handling it.”

My brows draw together, irritation flaring through the exhaustion. “Well, I wanted to. And Frank thought it was a good idea. The Order isn’t doing anything except humiliating me.”

“Frank doesn’t know what’s best for you,” he says. “I do.”

My heart stutters at that, an unwelcome flutter of hope rising in my chest.

I crush it down.

“You had sex with me and left like it meant nothing,” I snap. Then I swallow the sound and drag the blanket over my head so the world goes dim. “Like I was just another piece of your plan. Another step towards becoming Sovereign.”

Emotion surges, and I press my face into the pillow to catch any tears before they flow.

“I know I’m not the most capable person, but you could’ve warned me about the Trial. You could’ve cared that I’m a fucking human being.” My breath shudders. “Not something you sacrifice.”

Silence stretches between us.

Then his voice comes back, low and intense. “I’m coming to get you. I’ll come to the window.”

“No.” I curl tighter beneath the blanket. “It’s locked. And I’m staying here until the police find him.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“It’s safe here.”

“Who told you that?”

I hesitate. “Frank.”

“The Boltons are not your parents. You’re an adult, Zaiya. You don’t need permission to live how you want.” His voice sharpens. “Stand up for yourself and take control.”

My fingers twist into the blanket. Obligation roots itself in my chest. They didn’t have to take me in. They didn’t have to feed me or worry over me. Their care feels real, and I’ve spent my whole life starving for it.

“I want to stay.”

I’m not sure it’s true, but fear keeps the words pinned in place. Doing the right thing brought me back to where I started—stuck in my room.

“Listen to me, Zaiya.”

His stern tone strips the restlessness from me, letting an ache bloom between my legs.

“You are my world,” he says. “You give me purpose. You wake something violent and protective in me, and I don’t know how to quiet it.” His breath is tight as the words tumble out. “I have all this rage to take out on the man who touched you. And I swear on my life he will pay for it.”

My heart thunders in my chest as I press my hand over it.

“But first,” he says, calm again, “you’re going to pay for disobeying me.”

A sharp breath escapes. That ache spreads, letting heat pulse low in my body, and my thighs squeeze together.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“If you won’t come out, then you’ll listen. You’ll follow my instructions. Every word.”

He speaks with complete certainty that I want it.

I swallow and peek out from beneath the blanket, my eyes drawn to the bedroom door. The house is silent.

“Okay,” I breathe.