AURORA #3
"It changes everything!" I shove at his chest again, harder this time. "You can't control every aspect of my life, Evander. You can't dictate who I talk to or where I go or—"
"Yes," he interrupts, his voice hard and final, "I can."
He releases my shoulders, but before I can move, before I can even think about trying to escape, his hand comes up to wrap around my throat.
Not squeezing. Not cutting off my air. Just holding. His palm warm against my skin, his thumb pressed against my pulse point where my heart is hammering so hard I know he can feel it.
"You think you can fight me," he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine. "You think if you just stay strong enough, defiant enough, eventually I'll give up and leave you alone."
I can't speak. Can barely breathe. Not because his hand is restricting my airway but because of the way he's looking at me.
Like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Like he could stand here all night just watching me, studying me, cataloging every micro-expression.
"I'm not going to leave you alone, Aurora." His thumb strokes along my jawline. The touch is gentle. Too gentle. It makes my skin crawl and burn at the same time. "I'm not going to get bored. I'm not going to find someone else more interesting."
"Why?" The word comes out broken. "Why me? What the fuck do you want?"
For a long moment, he doesn't answer. Just keeps stroking his thumb along my jaw, his eyes searching my face like he's looking for something.
And then he says, very quietly, "I don't know yet."
The honesty in his voice shocks me.
"I just know that from the moment I saw you in that courtyard, refusing to apologize, refusing to back down—" He pauses. Swallows. "Something in me shifted. And I can't... I can't not have you."
His hand tightens slightly on my throat. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me that he's in control. That he could hurt me if he wanted to.
"So I'm going to keep you close," he continues. "I'm going to make sure no one else gets near you. I'm going to own every second of your time until you understand that fighting me is pointless."
"And then what?" I manage to ask, my voice barely a whisper. "What happens when I understand?"
His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile. "Then I'll figure out what I actually want from you."
"You're fucking insane."
"So you keep saying." He leans in, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his breath. "But you're still here. Still breathing my air. Still letting me touch you."
"Because you're holding my brother hostage!"
"Am I?" His eyes search mine. "Is that the only reason you haven't run? Haven't screamed? Haven't told someone—anyone—what I'm doing to you?"
I want to say yes. Want to throw the truth in his face, make him acknowledge that everything between us is built on coercion and threats.
But the words stick in my throat.
Because he's right. I could have told someone.
Could have gone to the administration, to the police, to anyone who might listen.
The debt documents he showed me might be legal, but the way he's using them isn't. The way he's manipulating me, controlling me, threatening a child—that crosses lines. Legal lines. Ethical lines.
I could have reported him.
I haven't.
And I don't know if it's because I'm genuinely afraid of what he'll do to Liam, or if there's some other reason. Some fucked-up part of me that's responding to this, to him, in ways that make me want to scrub my skin raw.
"I hate you," I whisper.
"I know." He sounds almost... pleased. "But you're thinking about me. You're aware of me every second of every day. And that's more than most people ever get from you."
His hand moves from my throat to cup my face, forcing me to maintain eye contact.
"You give everyone else nothing," he murmurs. "You're a ghost in every room you enter, invisible by choice, giving the bare minimum to survive. But with me? You're present. You're angry. You're alive."
"Because you won't leave me alone!"
"Exactly." His thumb brushes across my lower lip. The touch sends electricity shooting down my spine. "I won't let you disappear, Aurora. I won't let you hide."
I try to turn my head away. His grip tightens, keeping me in place.
"Look at me," he commands.
I don't want to. Don't want to see whatever's in his eyes right now.
But I do it anyway. Because fighting him on every single thing is exhausting, and I need to pick my battles.
His eyes are dark. Intense. Burning with something that looks almost like hunger.
"You're mine," he says again, softer this time. "And I protect what's mine."
"You're hurting what's yours," I point out.
"No." He shakes his head slightly. "I'm making sure you're safe. Making sure no one else can get close enough to hurt you worse than I ever could."
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to make sense." His forehead drops to rest against mine. The gesture is almost... tender. "It just has to be true."
We stay like that for a moment.
Breathing the same air.
So close I can see the individual flecks of darker blue in his eyes, can count his eyelashes, can feel the barely-there tremor in his hand where it cups my face.