CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HAZEL
I HATE HOW he knows I won’t hurt him. The way he stands there, calm, unmoving, completely in control—it makes me feel small. Weak. And I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now. His gaze is cold, emotionless, like a stone giant carved out of marble, and I can’t stand how unaffected he is. How untouchable he feels.
My fingers tighten around the screwdriver, the edges of the handle digging into my palm. I could stab him. I could. But no matter how much I try to convince myself, the truth hangs over me like a noose—I won’t do it.
Charlie’s bark slices through my spiraling thoughts, and I glance toward him, the loyal dog who’s always by my side.
“It’s okay, Charlie,” Kieran says, his voice steady, soothing even.
The sound of his reassurance burns through me like acid. It strikes a nerve I didn’t even know was exposed, raw and bleeding. My jaw tightens, and the words spill out before I can stop them.
“Is it? Is it okay? What happens when I’m dead, Kieran? Are you going to kill my dog, or maybe keep him as a trophy?” My voice is bitter, each word sharpened by the anger bubbling beneath my skin.
Kieran raises a single finger, a silent warning. His ice-blue eyes narrow slightly, their message as clear as if he’d spoken it aloud: Watch yourself.
“You’re emotional,” he states, like it’s an illness, like it’s something broken in me that he’s diagnosing. “Emotions aren’t good. You need to calm down.”
Calm down. The words trigger something violent in me, something uncontrollable. My chest heaves, and before I can think, I’m screaming.
“I am sick of being calm!” The room vibrates with the force of my voice. “I want out!” I roar, the desperation tearing through me like a storm.
He tilts his head, observing me like I’m an animal on the verge of losing control. And then, slowly, he takes a step forward. Deliberate. Measured. His eyes never leave mine.
“Last time, Hazel,” he says, each word drenched in authority. “Calm down.”
Charlie barks again, his ears pulled back, tail stiff as he shifts on his paws. And it’s too much. It’s as if even my own dog is agreeing with Kieran, siding with the man who’s keeping me trapped here. I snap.
The screwdriver clatters to the floor as I charge him, my fists swinging out of instinct, not strategy. My knuckles slam into his chest, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even stumble. The solid wall of muscle absorbs the blow like it’s nothing, and that only fuels my frustration.
“Let me go!” I scream, but the words are lost in the fury of my actions.
I pull back and swing again, but this time, he catches my wrist. His fingers are iron shackles around me, unyielding. I twist, trying to break free, but his grip only tightens. My free hand comes up, and I slap him hard across the face, the sound echoing in the room like a gunshot.
Before I can pull away, he grabs that wrist, too. Now I’m pinned, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling as I fight against him like a caged animal. I want to scream in his face, to tear him apart, to do something that will hurt him as much as he’s hurting me. But he just stands there, calm and collected, watching me with that same infuriating look.
His head lowers, and I brace myself for the threat. For the words that will break me, because I know they’re coming. I know he’s going to remind me of how powerless I am. How trapped I’ve become.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his mouth brushes against mine, soft but deliberate. The warmth of his lips catches me off guard, and for a second, I freeze. My mind blanks, short-circuits, unable to process what’s happening.
The kiss isn’t harsh or punishing like I’d expect. It’s something else entirely. Slow. Controlled. And it terrifies me more than any threat ever could.
I hate him. I hate that he’s doing this. But my body betrays me, my lips parting slightly as his breath mingles with mine. The heat between us shifts from anger to something darker, something I don’t want to acknowledge but can’t ignore.
When he pulls back, I’m left standing there, breathless and confused. My wrists still trapped in his hands, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it. His gaze is locked on me, but this time, there’s something different behind those icy eyes.
Control. Always control. But also something that makes my skin tingle.
“I warned you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, like gravel sliding over silk. His hands loosen on my wrists, but he doesn’t let go completely. Not yet. “I asked you to calm down.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry, my mind racing as I try to figure out what the hell just happened.
And why a part of me—no matter how much I hate it—want him to do it again.
My breath shudders as I try to pull myself together. My body is buzzing, still recovering from the way his lips just shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. Anger. Fear. Lust. It’s all tangled, a storm ripping through my chest. I need to say something, to scream at him, but the words stick in my throat, choking me.
Kieran watches me, his gaze steady, unreadable. It’s like he knows exactly what I’m feeling—how my mind is spiraling and how my legs are shaking just enough that I’m grateful he’s still holding my wrists. If he let go, I’m not sure I’d stay standing.
Finally, he speaks, breaking the silence that’s suffocating me. “You’re not as weak as you think you are,” he says, his voice low, almost soft, but not quite gentle. “But you let your emotions control you. That’s not a good thing.”
I rip my wrists out of his grip, the contact breaking like a snapped thread. “Don’t lecture me,” I spit, even though my voice trembles. I hate that he sees me like this—raw, vulnerable, exposed. I hate that he’s right. “You don’t get to mess with me like that and then act like you’re doing me a favor.”
He tilts his head again, studying me like he’s dissecting a problem, not a person. “I’m not messing with you, Hazel. I’m teaching you something.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m learning plenty.”
He steps back, giving me space, and for a second, I think he’s going to walk away. But then he pauses, his eyes flicking to the screwdriver on the floor. It lies there, forgotten, useless. Just like me, I think bitterly.
“You had your chance,” he says, nodding toward the screwdriver. “You could’ve used it.”
My fingers clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “You knew I wouldn’t,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Exactly.” He shrugs as if my inability to hurt him is just another fact of life. “And that’s what’s eating you alive, isn’t it? The fact that you couldn’t do it. The fact that, deep down, you know you don’t have what it takes.”
I lunge forward without thinking, my fist aimed for his face this time, but he’s ready. He catches my arm mid-swing, twisting it just enough to immobilize me but not enough to hurt. His strength feels effortless, like he’s not even trying.
“Stop fighting me, Hazel,” he says, his voice still maddeningly calm. “You’re wasting your energy.”
“Let me go!” I thrash in his grip, but it’s useless. My body is no match for his.
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he steps closer, so close that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His breath brushes against my ear, and I freeze, the sudden proximity knocking the air out of my lungs.
“You want to know why I kissed you?” he murmurs.
No. I don’t. I don’t want to know because the truth will destroy me. But I can’t stop myself from nodding, my body betraying me once again.
“Because it’s the only way to shut you up without breaking you.” His words are like a blade sliding between my ribs, slow and deliberate. “You’re strong, Hazel, but you’re fragile, too. If I pushed you any further, you’d fall apart. And we both know I don’t want that.”
A strangled noise escapes my throat, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. I hate him for saying it. I hate him for knowing me so well, for knowing exactly how to control me, how to keep me trapped in this twisted game where I’m always the one losing.
But even as the anger rises, there’s something else simmering beneath it. Something that terrifies me.
Desire.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “You think you’re so smart,” I whisper. “But you don’t know everything about me.”
He smirks, and it makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. “No,” he admits. “But I know enough.”
The weight of his words settles on my chest, heavy and suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning, but there’s no water, no way to swim to the surface. Just him. His presence, his touch, his damn voice that won’t leave my head.
“I’m not going to break,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
His fingers loosen around my arm, but he doesn’t let go entirely. “Good. Then prove it.”
I blink, my breath catching. “How?”
He leans in, his mouth so close to mine that I can taste the tension in the air. But this time, he doesn’t kiss me. This time, he pulls back, leaving me hanging, breathless and trembling.
“By surviving,” he says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “By making it through this without losing yourself.”
I want to argue, to tell him I’m already lost.
He lets go of my arm, stepping back and giving me space again. My skin feels cold without his touch, and I hate that too.
Charlie whines softly, as if sensing the storm inside me. I drop to my knees and run my fingers through his fur, grounding myself in the feel of his warmth.
Kieran watches me for a moment longer before turning toward the door. “Dinner’s in an hour,” he says over his shoulder, as if we didn’t just share a moment that cracked me wide open.
And then he’s gone, leaving me with my racing heart, my swirling thoughts, and the terrifying realization that, no matter how much I fight it, I don’t think I’ll ever be free.