Page 7 of His to Hunt (The Owner’s Club #1)

Six

BECKETT

Her hand connects with my face, sharp and fast, and for a split second, I wonder if she thought she could hurt me with it.

She didn't, obviously.

But I can't deny I'm happy to see I wasn't wrong in my initial assessment.

I'm an excellent judge of character. From the first moment I meet someone, I can tell their true intentions.

And the fiery spirit I saw beneath all that careful control is exactly who I want.

If she was anything else, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

I let the sting bloom across my cheek under my mask and keep my gaze steady, one hand slipping up to catch her jaw—not hard, not cruel, just firm enough to keep her there.

Her breathing stutters. Her mask might hide most of her expression, but I can see the fight in her eyes.

"You done?" I ask softly .

She jerks her chin, but doesn't try to pull away. That tells me more than words ever could.

"I'm not yours," she snaps.

Not yet.

My fingers trace the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate, like I'm painting a memory she won't be able to wash off. Her skin is warm, soft, vibrating with barely contained rage. Or fear. Or both.

She tries to step back, but I don't let her.

"Keep telling yourself that," I murmur. "You might even believe it for another hour."

"Fuck you."

"Eventually."

The door creaks open behind us, and the moment stretches—tight as wire—before the tension breaks with a familiar voice.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Graham drawls, stepping onto the terrace like he wasn't intentionally interrupting. "Didn't know the party had moved outside."

He has a glass of something expensive in one hand, his jacket slung over one shoulder like he's immune to formality. His tone is casual, but his eyes? Sharp. Watching. Reading every inch of me like he already knows how deep this runs.

"She hit him," he adds, clearly talking to someone else.

Sebastian steps into view like a chess master entering mid-game—measured, immaculate, unreadable. He doesn't speak, but his gaze moves quickly. Noticing everything. The tension in my shoulders, the look on her face, the way my fingers are still curled slightly under her chin.

"She's not afraid of him," Sebastian says.

"She should be," I answer.

But I don't take my eyes off her.

Because she's still trembling. Still pretending. Still wearing that collar like it hasn't already burned itself into her skin.

And I know the look on her face. It's the look of someone who just realized she made a deal with the devil. A deal she never meant to make and doesn't understand what it cost her yet.

Graham grins as his gaze shifts between us, reading more than he'll say aloud. "Interesting choice. Most women don't have the nerve to slap you."

"Most women don't interest me enough to warrant the reaction."

"So what was it about her that caught your attention?" Sebastian asks, circling closer with that predatory grace he never fully suppresses. "The fact she wasn't wearing the anklet? Or just the way she looked at you like you were nothing special?"

A muscle twitches in my jaw. "You should be more careful about the questions you ask."

He grins. "And miss the only time I've seen you this worked up over a woman? Not a chance."

Her eyes narrow, gaze darting between us. I can practically see her mind working behind that mask, reassessing, calculating, deciding if these men are threats or merely annoyances.

"I'm standing right here," she says, voice steady despite the tremor I can still feel beneath my fingertips. "Maybe try asking me directly."

Graham whistles low. "Oh, I like her."

"You would," Sebastian mutters.

I finally release her chin, but don't step back. "My associates were just leaving."

"Were we?" Sebastian asks, amused .

"Yes." The single word carries enough weight that even Sebastian knows better than to push further.

Graham inclines his head in mock surrender, then offers her an exaggerated bow. "Until we meet again, mysterious lady who dared to strike the untouchable."

Sebastian simply shakes his head in amusement as he follows Graham back toward the door.

Just before they disappear inside, Graham pauses. "Remember the time. Things change at midnight."

The door closes behind them, leaving us alone again in the moonlit silence of the terrace.

She exhales slowly. "Friends of yours?"

"Associates."

"That's not what I asked."

"It's the only answer you're getting right now." I pause, studying the defiance still burning in her eyes. "You should be more concerned about what happens next."

"And what is that, exactly?" She tilts her head, a challenge in every line of her body. "Another lecture about how I belong to you now? More threats wrapped in that velvet voice? Or are you finally going to tell me what this collar really means?"

I step closer, until I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "It means you're mine. But if you need a demonstration..."

The clock in the distance chimes, marking time's passage with eleven solemn beats.

"One hour," I say softly. "That's all the freedom you have left."