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His words turn to static, fading behind the spiral in my mind—the roaring panic that makes it hard to breathe, hard to stand. My hands curl into fists at my sides, my fingernails biting deep into my palms, anchoring me in place as the worst thought settles in my chest like a stone.

If Andrei comes for me blindly… he’ll die.

The worst thing is, he will come. I know that with terrifying clarity now. He’s too ruthless, too prideful, too possessive to let anyone steal something that belongs to him—not without retaliation. Not without turning the world upside down to get it back.

I am his. He’s made that clear in a hundred cruel, quiet ways.

Now it’s going to get him killed.

My chest tightens, a raw, searing ache radiating beneath my ribs. It isn’t just fear anymore. I’m not just afraid of dying. I’m not afraid of what Matías might do to me—though the threat of that lingers, heavy and real.

I’m afraid of losing him.

I see him behind my eyes now—not as he was in fury, not even as he was in bed, but the moments in between.

The way his silence could say more than any shout.

The way he placed a steadying hand on the small of my back when I faltered—possessive, yes, but also protective.

The way he lowered the gun when I told him not to pull the trigger. Not because he had to. Not because he wanted to.

My throat tightens, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes, hot and unwanted. I blink hard, furious at myself, refusing to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Matías can’t see me cry. He can’t see me break.

I won’t give him the pleasure. I bite the inside of my cheek until the sting distracts me from the way my vision blurs.

I don’t want Andrei hurt. I certainly don’t want him dead.

I want him alive. Whole. Fierce and unstoppable and burning. Even if I never see him again, even if he hates me for what I’ve become—I want him to live.

The realization cuts through everything else. It’s the one thing I know for sure.

It gives me something to hold on to.

I have to warn him.

Somehow, some way—I have to get a message out. I have to keep him from walking into this slaughter blind. I have to buy him time. Change the game. Anything. Everything.

Matías keeps circling, keeps talking, drunk on the power he thinks he has, blind to the storm building inside me.

Let him think I’m weak. Let him think I’m beaten.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Andrei—it’s how to survive. How to wait. Now I just need one chance.

One mistake. One crack in their plan.

***

Matías grows bored quickly.

I can tell the exact moment it happens. His smirk fades just enough to reveal the irritation beneath, the twitch of impatience tightening at the corner of his mouth. He wants fear. Panic. Screams. Something to feed on.

I give him nothing.

He circles once more, eyes raking over me like I’m a carcass he’s already picked clean. Then he scoffs and waves a hand at one of his men.

“Lock her upstairs,” he says flatly, already turning away like I no longer interest him. “Keep her breathing. Nothing more.”

The man who steps forward is younger, with a blank expression and the wary energy of someone who knows better than to ask questions. He grabs my arm roughly, and I stumble as he drags me toward the stairs at the back of the house.

The boards creak underfoot. Paint peels from the banister. The hallway above is dim, lined with doors that lead to nothing good.

He shoves one open and throws me inside.

The door slams shut behind me.

The lock clicks into place.

Silence.

The room is small. Cramped. The air stale with dust and the acrid sting of old smoke. One barred window lets in a sliver of moonlight, enough to make the shadows stretch long and crooked across the floor. The mattress in the corner bears a thin, stained sheet. No furniture. No weapons. No hope.

I stand there, frozen, for one long breath.

Then another. Then I let myself tremble.

Just for a moment. Just enough to feel it. The fear. The rage. The heartbreak clawing at my ribs like it wants to tear me apart from the inside.

I sink to the floor, pressing my forehead against the cold, crumbling wall. The chill bites into my skin, but I welcome it. It reminds me that I’m still here. That I haven’t vanished into the panic.

I can’t break now. Andrei will come. I know he will. He’s too stubborn. Too proud. Too reckless not to.

He’ll burn this place to the ground if he has to. He’ll come in guns blazing, throat tight with fury, teeth bared.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing harder into the wall.

If I stay here, helpless, waiting—he’ll walk into Matías’s trap and never walk back out. That’s the part that cuts deepest. Not what they’ll do to me. Not the cage or the fear or the filth of this place.

Him.

The thought of him falling because of me.

I remember the way he looked at me, right before I left the mansion. Cold, unreadable, but watching. Always watching. The way his hand brushed my lower back without thinking. The steel in his voice when he gave quiet orders meant to keep me safe, even when I wanted to hate him for it.

I remember how he lowered the gun in his office—when I asked him to. When I told him to.

He listened. He always listened. even when he pretended not to.

That man—icy, brutal, terrifying—is also the one who carried me in his arms like something precious, laid me down like I mattered. Kissed me like he needed me.

I won’t let him die for me. I can’t.

I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand, the salt and dirt smearing across my skin. Then I square my shoulders against the dark.

No more crying. No more waiting.

I don’t have a weapon, or a plan, but I have my resolve.

I have the one thing Matías doesn’t understand—what it means to be underestimated. What it means to be small and dismissed and locked away, only to rise from it stronger, sharper.

He thinks I’m just bait, a prize to be paraded.

I am not his pawn.