Chapter 12 #2
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, absolutely not.”
Hayden finally turns to me, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“You’re insane,” I snap. “We are not getting married just to—”
“Don’t question me,” he cuts in smoothly. “I have no desire to claim any of your assets. I’m only sharing mine.”
I shake my head, stepping back like I can put distance between myself and the sheer weight of what he’s proposing. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”
Hayden’s gaze darkens like he’s testing me. “Then decide.”
It’s a challenge, and I know only one answer would be accepted, but still, I fight.
Silence stretches between us, thick with tension. The lawyer watches quietly, waiting.
I swallow hard. “I don’t need this.”
Hayden exhales, but there’s no frustration in it, only certainty. “You don’t have to need it. You just have to take it.”
I turn away, pressing my fingers to my temples. Hands shaking. “This is insane.”
“It’s done,” he says simply.
I whirl on him. “No, it’s not.”
But the lawyer is already writing. And Hayden doesn’t argue. Because in his mind, it already is.
“It’s done, Martine, and I don’t care if you like it or not. You belong to me.” He emphasizes arrogantly.
But as much as I want to be angry, I can’t ignore the fact that, for all his ego, Hayden isn’t just controlling me, he’s protecting me.
Even if he refuses to admit it.
Hayden grabs me by the arm, his grip firm but not painful, and drags me back through the office, down the elevator, and toward the car. I twist my arm free as soon as we reach the parking lot.
“What the hell was that?” I demand, spinning to face him. “You didn’t even let me speak.”
“You don’t need to speak,” he says curtly, unlocking the car.
I scoff. “Oh, so that’s what this is? You hijacked my meeting, threatened my lawyer, and now I’m supposed to thank you for it?”
Hayden exhales sharply, stepping closer. “You don’t know anything, you little brat.”
“Then tell me!” I snap, chest puffing out in false bravado. “Where the hell were you for two days? Why are you suddenly obsessed with securing my assets? Why would you even want to marry me?”
My voice rises, my pulse hammering in my ears. I shove his chest, surprising myself with the force of it, with the anger burning through me.
Tears prick my eyes, “You took everything from me, and somehow, even after I was stripped bare, you still found a way to find parts of me I didn’t know existed and take what little I had left.”
He just stares at me, opens the car door for me, and tilts his head, his face a mixture of distaste and annoyance. His expressions are always at war with how he claims me and what he demands of me.
“I don’t…” My breath catches, my throat tight. “I don’t even know what I’d say if you actually gave me a choice. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Between us, you never give me one. You just take and take until there’s nothing left of me.”
My eyes sting with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. “You’ll never give me a choice, will you? I lost all of mine when you took me away from my home.”
Hayden’s jaw tightens, his hands flexing at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll say something, fight back, deflect, or justify. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, silent, unmoving. And somehow, that infuriates me more.
I shake my head, furious. “I don’t understand any of this. You won't tell me why I’m in danger. You won’t explain what happened to my brothers, or why you have this sick obsession with me—”
He cuts me off before I can say another word. His hands grip my face, tight, almost bruising, as he crashes his lips against mine.
The world tilts.
His kiss is rough, devouring, a collision of fury and possession, full of everything he refuses to say out loud. It isn’t careful. It isn’t kind. It’s a battle, a demand, a brand. My pulse spikes, my anger tangling with something just as volatile, just as reckless.
I shove at his chest even as my fingers clutch his coat; my grip is desperate, furious.
My nails scrape against the fabric, against him, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
He growls into my mouth, biting at my lower lip, and I gasp, whether from shock or something darker, I don’t know.
Heat licks up my spine, searing, all-consuming.
I press myself against him when he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth and running it along my teeth.
I moan into his mouth.
I hate him. I hate that he does this. He always wins.
And yet I kiss him back like I want to hurt him for it. Like I want to leave marks, just like he’s leaving them on me.
Then, just as suddenly, he rips himself away.
The cold rushes in, brutal and biting, as I stagger back, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Hayden’s chest rises and falls, his eyes burning into mine, dark, dangerous, unreadable.
“This,” he mutters, voice rough, low, and thick with something I can’t name. “This is why.”
His fingers twitch, like he might reach for me again, like he might drag me back into that suffocating, electric pull between us. But instead, he takes a slow, measured breath, shoving it all back beneath the surface.
Then his voice turns cold, controlled as he ushers me into the front seat. “Now get in the fucking car.”
I glare at him as he shuts my door, my body still trembling with adrenaline, with anger, with the ghost of his lips against mine.
But I don’t argue. Not this time.
The car ride is silent, tension still hanging thick in the air between us. My fingers twitch in my lap, my lips still tingling from the way he kissed me, like it was a warning, a promise, and a punishment all at once. I want to be furious, but I’m still trying to catch my breath.
I watch him from the corner of my eye. His jaw is set, his hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly, like he’s holding onto more than just control of the car. His mood is tough to assess, shifting between restrained rage and annoyance.
Minutes pass, the city fading behind us as he takes an unfamiliar route. My stomach tightens as I realize we aren’t heading back to the house.
I glance at him, then back at the road. “Where are we going?”
Hayden doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps driving, his grip steady, his gaze locked on the road ahead, unreadable. The silence between us thickens, stretching, tightening.
Then, in the distance, I see it.
The looming structure rises against the gray sky, cold and imposing.
Eulogia.
My breath catches. My pulse spikes.
“Hayden.”
Nothing.
I turn fully to face him. “You told me no. You shut me down before I could even argue.”
Still, no response.
A hollow laugh escapes my lips, bitter and disbelieving. “And now we’re just, what? Going back?”
His jaw flexes. He exhales, finally glancing at me. “You wanted to go back.”
“You didn’t.”
His fingers tighten on the wheel. “I changed my mind.”
I shake my head. “No. You don’t just change your mind. What happened?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. His grip on the wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t need to concern yourself with why I do what I do.”
A chill skates down my spine. “So I’m just to be whipped around like a pet?”
He grips the steering wheel as I stare him down, giving me no answers to my questions. His resolve doesn’t crack; the cocky bastard simply smirks as I sit here more confused than before.
The car rolls to a slow stop outside the entrance to Eulogia, the drop-off zone, not the parking lot. The iron gates stand tall, the emblem carved into their surface catching the faintest hint of morning light.
Hayden shifts the car into park, but doesn’t move to turn off the car. His voice is quiet, but there’s a warning laced beneath it. “Remember, I always have eyes on you.”
I whip my head toward him, studying him carefully. “Wait. Are you actually letting me go to class? Aren’t you coming?”
His eyes stay on the road. “I have other places to be.”
Suspicion curls in my chest. I watch him, waiting for the catch, the inevitable shift. “You’re just letting me go?”
His lips twitch slightly, but the smirk doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s an edge to it. “I’ll pick you up from your last class of the day.”
I frown. “I never told you my schedule.”
Hayden finally glances at me, something dark flickering behind his gaze. “I know it.”
Of course he does.
Without another word, he reaches into the center console, pulls out a small Hermès leather purse, and tosses it onto my lap.
I blink at him. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
I hesitate, but eventually unclasp it. Inside, neatly placed, is a black unreleased Amex Unlimited card with his name embossed, along with a sleek, brand-new Nokia cellphone.
I exhale sharply, gripping the purse tighter. “Hayden…”
“Use it if you need something.” His voice is calm, casual, like it’s not the most absurd thing in the world. “And if I call, you answer.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t need your money.”
His expression doesn’t shift, but something in his gaze sharpens.
I let out a humorless laugh, remembering I don’t have any of my own. “Right.”
His fingers flex on the wheel, his patience thinning. “I told you, you belong to me. I take care of what’s mine.”
A chill runs through me. “I’m not yours.”
Hayden turns to face me, gaze dark. “You are. And you know it.”
Reaching out, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t make me remind you how much you begged to be mine as you came on my cock.”
My throat tightens, but I force myself to glare at him. “I don’t want this.”
He exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if considering whether to indulge me or shut me down completely.
Then his voice drops lower, smoother. “You don’t have to want it. You just have to take it like the good girl I know you can be.”
I shake my head, swallowing back my frustration. Trying to erase the creeping memory of the last time he called me a good girl, and how hot and heavy he felt inside of me.
Hayden smirks, like he can read the thoughts on my face, as my blush is surely giving me away. His tone is final, absolute. “Just as I take everything from you, whether you consent or not.”
The words settle heavily between us. Hayden has been so evasive, but I realize now that he is never dishonest.
I hate how easily he says it. How much he means it. How much it sends a calming wave over me, knowing that while there is so much uncertainty, he is a constant.
I swallow down whatever uneasy feeling lingers and push open the door, stepping out onto the pavement. The air is crisp, sharp against my skin, but it doesn’t shake the heaviness of this morning, the weight of everything unspoken, of everything he refuses to tell me.
A part of me is so excited to be back at Eulogia that I hardly even concern myself with the idea of escaping him.
What would I do? Run to my apartment, where he’s sure to find me?
There’s no escaping men like Hayden; they take and take from you until they’re in your bones like rot.
And while escaping Hayden seemed like a possibility when I was first taken, my pride attached to the childish idea that there was an out, a darker part of me doesn’t want to be.
I make my way to the nearest café, drawn in by the scent of espresso and burnt caramel, the low murmur of students already awake and pretending to be productive.
I don’t even hesitate when I reach the register.
I simply slide the black card across the counter, watching the barista’s expression shift as he swipes it and hands it back.
He recognizes me clearly, and the name on the card.
The warmth of the cup seeps into my fingers as I take a slow sip, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue. For a moment, just a moment, I let myself pretend this morning never happened.
The campus is alive, with golden morning light cutting through the crisp autumn air.
Leaves crunch under my heels as I make my way across the quad, past ivy-covered buildings and stone pathways etched with years of footsteps.
I pull my jacket tighter around me as I take a deep breath of the crisp air. God, it feels so good to be back.
For a moment, it feels normal. Just another student heading to class, not a girl whose morning was spent being reminded that she belongs to a man who takes care of everything, whether she wants him to or not. That I’m nothing more than the property of a Bonesman.
I shake off the thought as I step into the library, the calming scent of books replacing the comforting aroma of coffee. My heels click against the marble floors as I find an empty seat, setting my coffee down with a sigh. My first course isn’t for another thirty minutes.
I exhale slowly, my stomach knotting.
No matter how much I try to pretend, nothing about this is normal.
But as I reach into my purse to grab my phone, I see a bit of movement right in front of me.
Then I look up and pause, as recognition runs through me.