I sink back onto the bed, my whole body trembling as their voices drift further away, leaving me alone in the silence. The walls feel like they’re closing in, and the panic that’s been lurking under the surface finally begins to crack through.
The door swings open, and there he is–Jaxon Steele, stepping into the room with the same lethal calm I’d seen back at the meeting. His gray eyes lock onto mine, flat and unreadable, his movements slow, controlled, as if he’s weighing each step. I force myself to sit up straighter, trying to summon whatever mask I can, but the closer he gets, the more my resolve cracks, splintering like glass under pressure.
His gaze stays fixed on me, his eyes dark, a faint glint of something cruel just beneath the surface. There’s no kindness in him, no flicker of humanity, nothing but cold, calculated purpose. As he nears the bed, my body betrays me, a tremor running through me that I can’t seem to stop. Instinctively, I inch back until I’m pressed against the headboard, my back fiat against the wood, trapped with nowhere to go.
He stops, his face devoid of expression, and speaks in a voice as detached as stone. “Relax. If we wanted you dead, you would be. Trust me.” His tone is so even, so final, it sends a fresh wave of fear crawling up my spine.
Before I can respond, he nods toward me, his eyes flicking to the cut along my stomach. “Lift your shirt.”
My blood runs cold, dread twisting in my stomach. Lift my shirt? Panic flares, burning through the fear as I freeze, staring at him, unable to move. His gaze narrows, a flash of irritation sparking in his eyes, and in two swift strides, he’s by the bed, his hand pressing me down before I even have time to react.
“Stop squirming,” he says, his voice laced with a sharp edge of frustration. “Trust me, I don’t want to touch you any more than you want to be touched.”
I try to shove his hand off, but his grip is firm, holding me in place as he lifts the hem of my shirt with the other hand. I flinch, every nerve in me screaming to fight, to pull away, but the cool, unfeeling look in his eyes holds me captive. He doesn’t look at me as he pushes the fabric up, just enough to reveal the thin line of the cut he left, his gaze focusing on it with detached precision.
With the lightest touch, his fingers trace the line along my skin, his calloused fingertips grazing the cut. The contact is faint, impersonal, but it’s enough to send a shiver through me, an involuntary reaction that I hate myself for. My breath catches, and I meet his gaze, hoping to find some hint of explanation, some motive in his expression.
But his face is a mask, unreadable–indifference mingled with a barely restrained fire, a flicker of anger and something else I can’t even begin to understand. His gray eyes are intense, cold and fierce, burning with a kind of intensity that feels just shy of fury, but it’s like he’s seeing through me, like I’m nothing more than a problem he’s determined to solve.
A moment passes, heavy, charged, and then he lets go of me, stepping back, his gaze shifting back to indifference. He yanks the edge of my shirt down, his eyes flicking over me once more before he turns on his heel, his shoulders taut, his movements clipped.
As he reaches the door, he pauses, glancing back one last time, and for a second, I think he’s going to say something, explain this twisted game of control and distance.
But he doesn’t. He only gives me that same cold, empty look, and then he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him, the echo filling the room, cutting off everything else.
The silence crushes in around me, and I feel my chest tighten, the fear that I’d been holding in breaking through the dam. I clutch my hands together, pressing them against my mouth to stifle the sobs that I can’t hold back any longer. The world blurs, my vision clouding with tears, and I curbinto myself, feeling the weight of my captivity, the helplessness pressing down like a weight I can’t shake.
I’m alone, trapped, and with every breath, every tremor, the reality sinks deeper. I’m in the lion’s den now, surrounded by monsters–and no one is coming to save me.
