Page 37 of Little Spider

You’re mine, Raven. You know it. Stop pretending. Open the door, and I’ll make you feel every inch.

My hand moves on its own, fingers tracing the edge of the lock. I can’t do this. I can’t just give in. But I’m so tired—tired of fighting the way he makes me feel, tired of pretending I don’t want to know what it would be like to let him take control.

If I have to break in, I’ll take my time punishing you for making me wait. Is that what you want? To be forced? Or would you rather choose to give in? You decide.

A sob rips from my throat, and I feel my knees buckle. I press my forehead against the door, the cool wood grounding me, but my hands won’t stop shaking.

One last message.

Say it. Say you want me. You’ve come this far, Little Spider. You don’t get to back out now. You don’t get to pretend you’re innocent. You’re mine. Let me in.

My hand grips the lock, knuckles white, and I know I’m on the verge of breaking. I want to push him away, tell him he’s wrong, but my body betrays me—ache settling between my thighs, skin flushed and sensitive.

I can hear his breathing through the door—steady, calm, waiting.

My phone buzzes one more time.

Open it. Be good for me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lip until I taste blood. I shouldn’t. I can’t.

But my fingers move, twisting the lock, the click echoing through the room like a gunshot. I step back, breath caught in my throat, waiting for the door to swing open, for him to finally step inside.

But it doesn’t move.

Silence.

Then his voice, just on the other side, low and rough.

“That’s it, Little Spider. You’re learning. I’ll make you feel everything. I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

I choke on a sob, half terror, half something darker—something I can’t name but can’t fight.

And I know, as the door slowly creaks open, that I’ve lost.

Because some part of me never wanted to win.

CHAPTER 6.5

DAMIEN

It was 2:08 a.m.

Her bedroom light had just gone out.

She always took exactly seventeen minutes after the lights went off before falling asleep. I knew because I’d watched. Timed it. Studied the shape of her silhouette as she curled beneath the blankets and dragged her demons around herself like armour.

Raven locked her window tonight.

Cute.

The roof access two storeys up remained unlocked and the fire escape she thought was too high to reach? Not for me. Not with gloves. Not with intent.

She wanted to believe she was safe.

I wanted to believe I was merciful.

I slid the window open silently—slowly, deliberately, careful not to let it screech on the warped metal frame. I stepped into the room as if I’d always belonged there, as if I wasn’t trespassing but returning to a space already carved out for me in her world.