Page 46

I remain stubbornly silent, hating how his words resonate within me. His gloved fingers linger lightly against my lips again as he feeds me the final bite, sending another treacherous jolt of heat through me.

"Think about it," he continues. "We knew exactly how special you were from the first moment we laid eyes on you. We knew we had to protect you—from yourself, from Reyes, from everyone else who would try to dull your edges."

"And chaining me to a bed was your brilliant solution?" I snap, clinging desperately to my anger.

"For now," he says calmly, unwavering. "Until you can see the bigger picture. Until you realize you're safer here than you've ever been out there."

He picks up the empty tray and slowly rises to his feet, towering over me in his intimidating tactical gear. "Rest now, Seanna. You'll need your strength."

"Go to hell," I spit defiantly.

"Sleep tight, little storm," he murmurs, completely unfazed as he strides confidently to the door, closing it firmly behind him and leaving me alone once again with my conflicted thoughts and seething fury.

Silence settles around me again, thick and suffocating. I stare up at the ceiling, the dim lighting painting faint shadows that shift like ghosts along the walls. My body still buzzes from the heat Rule stirred in me—an unwelcome reminder of how easily they can manipulate my responses, how deep they've already gotten under my skin.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be stronger than this. Sharper. Colder. I’ve survived things that would break most people, clawed my way up in a world that doesn’t have patience for weakness. And yet here I am, chained to a bed, humiliated by my own traitorous body, and struggling not to replay the way his fingers brushed my lips—or how I didn’t pull away fast enough.

The worst part is that they know.They fucking know.Every little flinch, every flush of heat, every second my silence lingers too long—they see it all. They feed off it.

I want to scream. I want to break something. I want my gun, my freedom, my goddamn control back. But most of all, I want revenge. And not the kind that’s clean or noble. I want it bloody and brutal. I want them to regret ever thinking they could cage me like some pet.

But I have to be smart. I have to wait. Play their game. Pretend.

Let them think I’m unraveling.

Let them believe they’re winning.

Because the moment they slip, the moment one of them underestimates just how far I’m willing to go—I’ll make them bleed.

And I’ll smile while I do it.

Chapter 21

Seanna

Iwakeslowly,theedges of sleep peeling back like scabs over a wound—stinging and raw. The restraints dig gently into my wrists and ankles, soft enough to avoid bruising, but firm enough that there’s no mistaking the intent behind them.

Same bed. Same silent room. Same fucking sense of being watched.

Because one of them is there—again.

Seated in the same damn armchair tucked into the shadows like he owns the air I breathe. Still as a statue, the low golden light casting sharp lines across the mask covering his face. Just… watching.

I blink hard, jaw tight. “What, is this your new kink? Watching me sleep like a creep in a thriller film?”

No response. Not right away. Just the faint tilt of his head. The shift in his shoulders. Unbothered.

I scoff and let my voice go syrupy-sweet and venom-laced. “Hell, if you’re going to be a total freak about it, you may as well crawl in and do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

His modulated voice breaks the silence like warm molasses over a knife. Smooth. Sweet. And still so wrong.

“Don’t tempt me with things you might regret, little storm.”

Ruin.

The rhythm of the voice is too languid to be Rule’s. There’s a softness to him—honey dipped in something darker. A man who will lull you with charm while planning exactly how he wants toruinyou.

I narrow my eyes, voice dry. “So what’s the plan now? Keep me tied up until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in?”