Page 26

CHAPTER 26

S he bolted upright the second the restraints released.

The hiss of their retreat barely registered before she was on her feet, heart slamming in her chest, her entire body tight with aftershock. Her breath still came in gasps, too fast, too shallow, her limbs aching from the strain of being held down.

He just stood there.

Motionless.

Silent.

Like a statue carved from black metal and nightmare.

The fear, the helplessness, the confinement… it all snapped. The tight coil of control she’d held since the moment she’d woken up in this hell… it finally unraveled, shredding into something hotter. Wilder.

She screamed at him.

“You asshole! You fucking bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

She knew he didn’t understand her. Didn’t care. He made no move. No sound.

“Do you enjoy this? Is this fun for you?! Huh?! Is it?!” Her voice cracked, throat raw.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even tilt his head.

He just stood there. Unmoving. Watching.

It was the same as always. That silent, suffocating stare. The control. The cold.

Something snapped .

She charged him.

Before she could think—before the part of her that knew better could catch up—her fists were beating against his chest.

Hard.

Again. And again. And again .

She pounded at him, her palms slapping against the matte black armor with a useless, hollow thud.

“Say something! Say something! ”

She struck him again, harder. The jolt shot pain through her wrist. She didn’t care.

“Fucking do something! Don’t you have a voice? Don’t you have emotions? What the fuck are you… a robot?”

Another hit.

Ow.

Pain bloomed, sharp and immediate, radiating down her forearm.

She gasped, her momentum faltering.

Then he spoke.

Just one word.

Low. Resonant. Strange.

Alien.

But somehow… she understood .

Stop.

And then, she saw his hands.

His bare hands.

Large, blue-skinned, six-fingered. The dark armor was gone from them—she hadn’t even seen him remove the gauntlets. His fingers were tipped with black, claw-like nails that should have been terrifying.

But the way he touched her…

His hands closed around her wrists with slow precision. Not rough. Not violent. Firm.

She couldn’t move.

But she wasn’t hurt.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down at his hands—his real hands—holding her like something precious instead of dangerous.

The heat of his skin soaked through her own.

The strength in his grip was immense . She couldn’t even twitch.

But it was the gentleness that undid her.

He wasn’t crushing her. Not even close. He was… restraining her. Quietly. Calmly.

And for the first time…

She stilled.

She stopped screaming.

Her fury collapsed in on itself, folding beneath the shock, the exhaustion, the weight of too many feelings she hadn’t had time to process.

That was a breakdown for the ages. Considering everything she’d gone through, it was perhaps too tame.

She should have been wilder, more furious.

If not for him.

She looked up at him.

He still hadn’t moved.

He didn’t utter another word.

But his touch…

It said more than his silence.

And Sylvia, for the first time since she’d been taken, felt…

Strange.

And it occurred to her that he might not be all bad.