Page 67 of Cursed

“I’m not broken.” Her voice hardens. “And I’m not your property outside of Purgatory.”

I laugh, the sound scraping my throat. “You think there’s a difference?” I tap her forehead. “It’s all in here now. I’m in your head, just as you’re in mine.”

“I researched you,” she says abruptly. “Your company. Your brothers. Your... history.”

My jaw tightens. “And?”

“You’re obsessive. Controlling. Possibly psychopathic.” She tilts her head. “But you’re also brilliant. And you’re afraid.”

The accusation stings. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“You’re afraid of losing control.” She steps closer, invading my space now. “You’re afraid of needing me more than I need you.”

Her words slice through me like a scalpel, precise and sharp. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” I snarl.

Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her throat. Not squeezing—holding, feelingher pulse race beneath my palm. The delicate column of her neck fits perfectly in my grasp, like she was made for this. For me.

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating until they nearly swallow the brown of her irises. But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t struggle. Instead, she tilts her chin up, exposing more of her throat to my grip.

“Don’t I?” she questions.

The apartment disappears around us. There’s only Sadie, only the heat radiating between us, only the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. My fingers tighten, feeling her swallow against my palm.

“You think you’ve figured me out after a few days? After watching one video?” I lean closer. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

But she does. That’s what infuriates me. What terrifies me. This woman—this brilliant, maddening woman—sees right through the walls I’ve spent decades constructing.

Her lips part. I feel her pulse quicken beneath my fingers, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. The air between us grows thick, charged with danger.

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” she breathes. “The question is whether you’re brave enough to let me see it.”

My grip tightens at her challenge, and a small gasp escapes her lips.

I stare at her, rage and desire battling within me. Her challenge echoes in my mind.

Whether you’rebrave enough to let me see it.

She thinks she wants to see all of me, but she has no idea what that means.

No one sees all of me and walks away.

“You want to see what I’m capable of?” I whisper, my thumb caressing the hollow of her throat. “You’re not ready.”

My hand slides into my jacket pocket, fingers wrapping around the syringe I prepared before coming here. I always have contingencies. Always plan three steps ahead. Tonight was no different.

The needle gleams in the low light as I pull it out. Recognition flashes in her eyes, followed by confusion, then pure terror.

“Wha—”

I yank her closer by the throat and bring the syringe to her neck. The needle punctures her skin with a satisfying resistance.

“No!” Sadie thrashes against me, her hands clawing at my arm, nails digging deep enough to draw blood. “Stop!”

I depress the plunger, emptying the sedative into her bloodstream. Her movements grow more frantic, wild with panic. She manages to break away, stumbling backward, hand flying to the injection site.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she screams, eyes wide. Her body sways as the drug begins to take effect. “Landon, what did you?—”

She lunges at me, a desperate attack that’s easy to sidestep in her compromised state. Her coordination is already failing.