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"Trust me," I snarl, lips curling into a savage smirk, "whatever you have planned pales in comparison to what I'll do once I get free."

He rises slowly from the chair, shadows clinging possessively as he approaches the bed with confident steps. My pulse races wildly, adrenaline and rage blending dangerously with an inexplicable thrill.

"Promises, promises," he murmurs darkly, voice caressing my nerves like rough silk. "I can't wait to see you try."

I glare, fire blazing in my eyes. "Bring it on, asshole. You'll regret ever messing with me."

"No," he whispers, leaning close enough that his breath brushes against my skin through his mask, sending traitorous tingles down my spine. "You're exactly where you belong, Seanna. With us. Forever."

He lifts a gloved hand, knuckles tracing a gentle, possessive line along my jaw. My muscles tense instantly, instinctively flinching away from the unexpected intimacy. His thumb brushes across my lower lip, coaxing out an involuntary, furious snarl.

"I've wanted to taste these lips for so fucking long," he breathes huskily, the dark hunger in his voice unmistakable.

I lunge fiercely, teeth snapping, only for him to catch my jaw in a firm hold, his gloved fingers pressing into my skin almost hard enough to bruise. "There's my girl," he murmurs reverently. "Fierce, fiery—utterly captivating when you're like this."

His possessive hold, the way he speaks, it does something inside of me. And, though I will refuse it all the way to my grave, part of me doesn’t want him to stop. Shameful heat blooms beneath my skin, and I curse inwardly as my body betrays me, responding to his dominance. Fury wars violently with the impulse to lean into the touch.

"You're going to be a good girl for us," he continues. "Eventually, perhaps, you'll earn some freedom—but first, you'll have to prove you deserve it. That you canbehave."

My rage flares anew, but he merely brushes a final, possessive finger down my cheek.

"Rule will be back soon with food," he says casually, turning to stride toward the door as if we just had a pleasant chat.

I yank against the chains again, cursing him silently as he vanishes through the door, leaving me alone with my seething fury and conflicted emotions.

This isn't over. Not even close.

I don't know how much time passes. It could've been minutes, hours, or even days before the door opens again.

Rule enters quietly, still fully outfitted in his tactical gear, his face obscured by the same dark mask and reflective glasses. But the tray of food in his hands tells me who it is. He moves deliberately, setting the tray down on the bedside table before sitting next to me on the bed, the dark uniform adding an imposing presence despite his calm demeanor. I tense, glaring at him fiercely, ready to tear a chunk out of him.

"Don't bite," he warns gently, amusement in his voice.

I'm tempted, but my stomach growls embarrassingly loud at the scent of the food he brought, betraying my need. Rule lifts a taco—Mexican fish tacos, exactly the kind I love but haven't had in ages. Proof they've watched me far longer than I suspected.

He carefully brings the food to my mouth, feeding me slowly. Begrudgingly, I play along, recalling Ruin's mention of freedom if I behave.I'll fucking behave until I earn enough slack to stab them.

"When I first saw you," Rule says softly, "I knew you were special. Your darkness doesn't scare us, Seanna. It's what makes you perfect for us."

"Save the poetry," I snap, glaring up at him.

He nods indulgently, undeterred. "We had to stop you because Reyes was onto you. He'd begun sniffing you out. We couldn't risk losing you to that psycho."

As he feeds me the last bite of the first taco, his gloved fingers brush softly across my lips. The contact triggers a vivid memory from the night before—those same fingers, slick with my own arousal, shoved possessively into my mouth. My cheeks flush hotly, and I quickly look away, embarrassed by my body's treacherous reaction. Rule chuckles knowingly, lifting those same gloved fingers. He tilts his head down before slowly sliding the fabric aside just enough to lick off the taco remnants without me seeing any details of his face. Heat spikes through me, shame and unwanted desire warring fiercely.

"Careful, sweetheart," he whispers, and I can hear the desire even in his modulated voice. "You keep thinking like that, and I won't be able to behave myself."

A brief, dangerous moment flashes through me, and I seriously wonder if I've lost the fucking plot entirely. For just a heartbeat, I don't want him to behave. The realization hits hard, twisting my stomach with shameful desire. He must see the turmoil flickering across my face because he hums.

"Interesting," he murmurs quietly, his tone richly amused and undeniably provocative.

I narrow my eyes, regaining some of my fierce composure. "Don't flatter yourself," I hiss, attempting to mask my internal chaos.

Rule chuckles, low and soft, as he picks up another taco, slowly feeding it to me with care. "You can fight this all you want, Seanna," he says gently, almost soothingly. "But we both know the truth. You're drawn to this—drawn to us—because deep down, your darkness matches ours."

"You're delusional," I mutter bitterly, glaring despite my racing heart.

"Maybe," he concedes easily, his voice still calm and even. "But tell me, how long have you struggled to find someone who truly sees you? Who isn't afraid of the storm inside you? We don't want to tame it—we want to dance in it with you."