Chapter 45
The Illusion of Choice
Violet
I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city come to life below.
The skyline shifts from the cold blues of dawn into the soft gold of morning, people moving like tiny figures in a world that keeps turning—oblivious to my imprisonment.
I press my forehead to the glass, the cool surface grounding me as frustration simmers beneath my skin.
Time has passed, but the anger hasn’t gone anywhere. It burns steady in my chest.
He won’t let me go.
The fever is gone, and so is the version of him I took care of. The delirious, broken man who clung to me like I was his lifeline has vanished, replaced by the Asher I first met—commanding, demanding, and insufferably smug. Controlled again. Untouchable.
And the worst part?
I miss the other one.
I miss the fevered, vulnerable Asher who whispered apologies to his dead sister, guilt lacing every syllable.
The one who trembled under my hands, who said my name like it meant something sacred.
I close my eyes, the memory sharp enough to hurt, remembering the way he held on to me, and the way he softened without even realizing it.
Now I’m trapped in his penthouse, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him, and to let him pull me close and pretend none of this is real.
I hate him for making me want that.
The door swings open behind me.
I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.
Asher Redmont stands in the doorway like he owns the world—and maybe he does.
He’s cleaned up now, far too put together in a fitted black sweater that clings to his broad shoulders.
His hair is still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the edges.
It’s almost impossible to believe that two weeks ago he was shot, fevered, and barely conscious.
Now he moves like nothing ever touched him.
It pisses me off.
“Still sulking?” he asks, tilting his head.
I turn slowly, letting my glare do the talking. “Still kidnapping me?”
He sighs like I’m exhausting him. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I snap, throwing up my hands. “Is there a less dramatic way to respond to being held hostage in a penthouse?”
A slow smirk spreads across his face. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’ve been given the most luxurious prison known to man. You should be thanking me.”
I scoff. “For what? Making me lose my job? Holding me here like some kind of pet?” I step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “For forcing me to take care of you while you were sick, letting me see a version of you that was actually human, only to turn around and be this—this—”
“This what?” he growls, leaning down, his breath warm against my cheek.
My stomach clenches. “This asshole,” I snap, stepping back because he’s too close, and my body is already betraying me.
His smirk deepens. “Good. I was worried you were getting too comfortable.”
I growl and turn away, but he grabs my wrist, spinning me back.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
“Oh, goody,” I mutter. “More demands?”
He ignores it. “I want to talk about Zephyra.”
I blink. “What about it?”
His grip tightens just slightly before he releases me. “I need you to make it for The Order.”
I stare at him. “Are you joking? I created that drug. I know exactly how dangerous it is. I’ve seen what it does. I’m not making it again.”
“Yes,” he says calmly. “You are. Because you’re the only one who can fix it. Then you’ll make it for me.”
I laugh sharply. “Your audacity is truly something to behold.”
“Zephyra is profitable,” he says, folding his arms, “but unstable. It lasts too long in the system, which makes it unpredictable. Fix that, and it becomes the most valuable drug on the market.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. “Even if I could—which I don’t owe you—I wouldn’t. It’s already a nightmare. People have died because of it, Asher.”
His jaw tightens. “Then fix it so they don’t. It was intentionally tampered with. That threat is gone. Now you make it the right way.”
My gaze flicks to his side, the faint outline of his injury still visible beneath the sweater. He was shot because of this. Because he made sure it wouldn’t happen again.
“I am not fixing Zephyra so you can flood the market with it,” I say. “I made it to get Ella to Langport, not to destroy lives. This drug latches onto the addiction center in the brain. The long-term effects? I don’t even fully understand them yet. Making it widely available could ruin people.”
He exhales slowly. “Violet. You want out of here?”
“Desperately.”
“Then take the deal.”
I narrow my eyes. “What deal?”
He pauses, then looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “Ella’s scholarship. To Langport.”
I freeze.
“What about it?”
“That was me.”
The room tilts. Nausea rolls through me as my hands clench at my sides. “What?”
“I got her out. I got her into Langport. The money came from me—through Scarlet Zephyr Group.” He smirks. “Poetic, really.”
Shock slams into me, followed by rage so sharp it steals my breath. The escape I fought for, the future I bled to secure for Ella—it was him. All along. My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “No.”
“Yes,” he says. “And if you refuse, I pull it.”
Cold seeps into my bones. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold together what’s splintering. “You wouldn’t.”
He studies me, letting the silence stretch until it suffocates. “Wouldn’t I?”
My hands shake. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling extortion now?”
“Think of it as job security,” he says. “You fix Zephyra. You hand over the formula and the rights. You never make it again. You get paid as long as it sells.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then Ella loses everything.”
Fury and helplessness churn in my gut. I’ve spent my life fighting to survive, to keep Ella safe, and now I see the truth—I never had control. He’s been pulling the strings from the start.
And beneath the anger?
Relief.
Because this might finally be a way out.
I hate that it’s working.
I cross my arms. “You’re a bastard.”
His lips twitch. “So I’ve been told.”
“You think I’m just going to roll over?”
He steps closer. “You’re going to do it because it’s the smartest move. Because you’re tired of scraping by. Tired of fighting for every scrap. You don’t want to admit it, but you want more.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh, but I do, Kitten.” His gaze dips to my mouth for a heartbeat. “I know you, Violet.”
He’s right.
My jaw tightens as fury coils with something dangerously close to hope. I run through the options, searching for an escape that doesn’t exist. Asher doesn’t make idle threats. He doesn’t leave loopholes.
If I want Ella safe, this is it.
I exhale sharply. “Fine.”
His eyes gleam. “Good girl.”
“I will kill you in your sleep.”
He chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”
As he turns to leave, his fingers brush my jaw—light, and deliberate. My breath stutters.
He smirks, knowing exactly what he’s done. “Get some rest, Kitten. You’ll need it.”
The door closes.
I stare at the empty space, pulse still racing.
This is my way out.
And maybe—just maybe—when I finally walk out of this penthouse, I’ll run and never look back.
Because there’s no way in hell Asher Redmont keeps me caged forever.