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I stop in the hallway. The plush carpet absorbs the sound of my boots. I pivot, changing my destination.

I stop outside Liv’s suite. The biometric scanner flashes green under my palm. The deadbolts retract with heavy, metallic thuds that echo down the corridor.

I push the door open.

Liv sits in the armchair. The moment the lock disengages, she sets the vintage book on the side table. She rises in one fluid motion. Her hands fold neatly in front of her waist. She lowers her chin, her body completely attuned to my presence. The automatic readiness sends a rush of heat straight to my groin.

I do not issue a command. I do not order her to her knees.

I step into the suite and let the door seal shut. I cross the room, stopping two feet away. She keeps her eyes cast down, waiting for instruction.

“Look at me.”

Her hazel eyes lift. They shine with a mixture of reverence and lingering anxiety. She searches my face, trying to anticipate my mood, hunting for the cues that dictate her behavior.

“Are you happy, Liv?”

The question catches her completely off guard. Her lips part. A tiny crease forms between her brows. She studies my expression, hunting for the trap. She learned early that lying earns swift, severe consequences. She has to offer the truth.

“Yes.” The word slips out, quiet and fragile.

I wait. I want the rest of it. I want the justification straight from her own mouth.

She takes a shallow breath. Her chest rises under the silk fabric of her nightgown. “When you are here, I am happy. When you touch me... when you praise me, when you use me. I am happy. I know I shouldn’t be. I know how it looks to Ari. I know what my sister would say. The engagement to Hunter was a convenient merger. Ari was something different, and I can’t pretend he wasn’t. That makes this worse. You see what I have become, and you want me anyway.”

Shame colors her cheeks, a deep, burning flush. But the honesty rings clear and bright. She found peace inside the cage because I made the cage the only place she feels truly seen.

The admission should fuel my ego. It should validate my flawless techniques. Instead, a heavy, unyielding weight crashes over my shoulders. She is happy because I manufacture her happiness. Her entire wellbeing rests squarely in my hands.

I close the distance between us. I lift my hands and cup her face. My thumbs brush over her warm cheekbones.

She leans into the touch instantly. Her eyes flutter shut. A soft sigh escapes her throat, vibrating against my palms.

“I am going to take care of you,” I tell her. My voice drops to a low, rough register. I offer no threats. I weave no manipulations. I make a vow. “You are mine. I protect what is mine. You will never want for anything. You will always have exactly what you need. Do you understand me?”

She opens her eyes. Tears pool in the hazel depths, spilling over her lashes to wet my thumbs. Total, blinding trust radiates from her face.

“I understand.” She turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Thank you.”

I mean every word. I am committed to her care. She is no longer just a pawn in a war against Hunter Reed. She is a permanent fixture in my life.

I lean down and press my lips to her forehead. The kiss lingers. I breathe in the scent of her skin, the sweet floral notes mixed with the lingering musk of our time together.

“Go back to your book. Sleep when you feel tired.”

I release her face. I walk out of the suite, pulling the heavy door shut. The lock engages, sealing her safely inside.

My pulse beats a steady, grounded rhythm. The doubt from the study evaporates, replaced by a solid, unbreakable resolve.

I walk down the corridor to the spare cell. The scanner reads my print. The lock clicks open.

Ari sits on the edge of the narrow cot. He springs to his feet the second the door swings inward. His muscles bunch under his skin. Defensive. Exhausted. The dark circles under his green eyes look bruised in the harsh overhead light. He wears the gray sweats I provided earlier, his bare feet planted firmly on the cold concrete.

I step into the small room. I do not crowd him. I keep my hands at my sides. I lean my shoulder against the concrete wall and cross my arms.

Ari watches me, his breathing shallow. He expects violence. He expects another twisted game involving Liv.

“I know you think I am destroying you,” I say. My quiet tone surprises him. He blinks, his stance faltering a fraction.