I slammed my palm against the wall beside her, pinning her with my glare. She startled but didn’t retreat, and that only stoked the fire roaring in my veins. “You don’t care? Then what the fuck do you think I’d do if something happened to you? You are mine. Mine to protect. Mine to keep alive. I won’t let you gamble that away because of some reckless impulse.”
Her lips parted, her breath quick, but I saw the stubbornness still burning in her.
I exhaled through my teeth, fighting the urge to shake her until she understood. She wasn’t wrong, her compassion wasn’t wrong, but she was mine, and she’d damn well learn what that meant.
“I’ll handle it.” My voice was tight, final. “One of my men will contact the girl. In a quiet, safe way, with no trail leading back here. That’s all I can give you.”
Her eyes widened. I could see the surprise…the relief.
“You mean it?” she asked softly.
I caught her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. But you don’t ever pull shit like today again. You don’t run. Not from me, not from this house. If you need something, you come to me. Do you understand?”
Her throat worked, and finally, she nodded.
Ivan shifted in the corner, and I cut him a sharp look. “You did well. But next time she even breathes like she’s thinking of running, you tie her to the goddamn bed if you have to.”
Sorcha gasped, her outrage sparking, but I didn’t let go of her chin. I held her steady, made her see the truth burning in my eyes.
“I will bleed the world dry before I lose you,” I said, the vow searing from my chest. “So, stop testing how far I’ll go to keep you safe.”
The words hung heavy between us, vibrating in the charged silence. Her eyes burned back at me, anger still there, but under it… fear. Not of me, not exactly, but of the chains she thought I was putting on her.
I exhaled hard, dragging a hand through my hair, forcing myself back from the edge. She needed to hear the threat, but she also needed to feel the truth beneath it. I stepped forward, closing the last of the distance between us, and before she could retreat, I caught her by the wrist and pulled her into me.
She stiffened, ready to fight, but I didn’t let her. I turned, lowering us both into the chair behind me, pulling her straight into my lap like she belonged there. She wriggled at first, her protest hot on her lips, but my arms banded around her waist and held her fast.
“Enough,” I murmured against her temple, my voice no longer sharp steel but low, rough velvet. “I’m not your enemy, Sorcha. You want to fight me, fine…fight me. But do it from here. With me.”
Her fists rested on my chest, tension humming in every line of her body, but I felt it, slow, gradual as her breathing syncing to mine, her fire cooling just enough to let me in.
“You don’t get it,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges. “You’re asking me to give up every shred of control I have left.”
My grip tightened, but not in anger this time. In claim. “No,” I corrected softly, lips brushing the crown of her head. “I’m asking you to trust me to hold the weight when you can’t. I’ll give you back control piece by piece, but you don’t get to destroy yourself trying to carry it all.”
She went still at that, her forehead pressing against my collarbone. For the first time that night, she didn’t argue or push.
I slid one hand up her back, the other cupping her hip, anchoring her to me, keeping her right where I wanted her. “You are mine,” I whispered into her hair, possessive but steady now, a vow more than a warning. “And that doesn’t mean chains. It means you never stand-alone again.”
Her shoulders softened, just a fraction, and I held her tighter, knowing this was what she needed most, not my fury, but my weight around her, my strength wrapping her until she stopped shaking.
For a long moment, she was silent. Just the sound of her breathing, the faint hitch in it that told me she was fighting something inside herself as much as she’d been fighting me. Then, quietly, so low I almost thought I imagined it, she said:
“I don’t… I don’t know how to trust you.”
The words cut, but I didn’t move, didn’t loosen my hold. Her voice trembled, but there was steel under it too, the same steel I’d seen in her the night I cut her chains.
“I’ve been lied to, hurt, used like I wasn’t even human. And now you…” She broke off, her fists curling tighter against my chest. “You’re asking me to believe that you’ll protect me, that you won’t… that you’re different. But how am I supposed to just…” Her breath hitched, sharp, and she pressed her face harder into me. “I don’t know how.”
I tilted my head down, pressing my lips against her hair. “Then don’t,” I said simply.
Her head jerked slightly, confusion sparking in her posture.
“Don’t force it or pretend. You don’t have to trust me right now,” I went on, my voice steady, low, the kind of truth that didn’t need to be dressed up. “But the bond… it’s already there. You feel it.”
Her whole body went rigid in my arms.
“Don’t lie to me,” I murmured against her ear. “You feel it every time I touch you. Every time you breathe the same air I do. You feel it, even if you hate it.”
