Chapter 20 YOUR Ring #2
“Death is mercy,” he said softly. “I don’t offer that.”
Before I could react—
his hand closed around mine.
Firm.
Unavoidable.
He slid the ring onto my finger.
The metal was cold.
Heavy.
It didn’t feel like jewelry.
It felt like something being locked into place.
Something permanent.
Something I didn’t agree to.
My body reacted before my brain could process it.
I ripped it off.
Threw it across the room.
The sharp metallic scrape echoed as it skidded across the floor.
“Go to hell!”
I didn’t wait.
Didn’t think.
I lunged for the door.
I made it one step.
Maybe two.
Then—
his hand caught my arm.
Iron.
Unyielding.
I was yanked back hard enough that my breath left my lungs in a sharp rush as my back hit the wall again.
The impact rattled through me.
His body caged mine instantly.
Close.
Too close.
Heat.
Control.
Shadow.
“You think this is optional?” he murmured.
My pulse roared in my ears.
“You think defiance changes anything?”
His hand on my jaw.
“In my world,” he continued, voice low, measured, “no isn’t rebellion.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
Unbreakable.
“It’s negotiation.”
The words sank in.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
He bent down slowly.
Picked up the ring.
“You will wear my name,” he said quietly.
The silence that followed stretched.
Long.
Oppressive.
“You are safer with me than without me.”
My chest rose and fell unevenly.
“I don’t want you,” I said again.
Quieter this time.
Not weaker.
Just… tired.
His gaze didn’t waver.
Didn’t soften.
“Doesn’t matter.”
He stepped back.
Finally,
Space.
Air.
“Get some rest,” he said.
Then—
“My bride.”
The word landed heavier than the ring.
Heavier than the threat.
He turned.
Walked away.
Like this conversation was over.
Like my answer didn’t matter.
My legs didn’t feel steady.
My body didn’t feel like mine.
But I moved anyway.
Because standing there wasn’t an option.
Because nothing felt like an option anymore.
I followed him down the hallway.
Each step quieter than the last.
Not because I was trying to be quiet.
Because the place swallowed sound.
Because everything here felt muted.
Controlled.
Like even noise had to behave.
He didn’t look back.
Didn’t check if I was following.
Didn’t need to.
Of course I was.
The bathroom door stood slightly open.
Steam curled out into the hallway.
Waiting.
Prepared.
I stepped inside.
The heat hit me immediately.
The mirror was fogged.
The marble counters were spotless.
Everything arranged with surgical precision.
Towels folded.
Clothes laid out.
My size.
Of course they were.
Of course he knew.
Nothing about this was accidental.
Nothing about this was uncertain.
Everything had been decided before I even realized I was part of it.
I closed the door behind me slowly.
The quiet wrapped around me again.
Different in here.
Thicker.
Heavier.
I turned toward the mirror.
Wiped a section clear with my palm.
My reflection stared back at me.
Flushed skin.
Wide eyes.
A faint indentation still marked my finger where the ring had been forced on.
I stared at it.
Too long.
Like I could still feel it there.
Like it hadn’t really come off.
My stomach twisted.
I looked away.
Quickly.
Before my thoughts could go somewhere I didn’t want them to.
I stripped slowly.
Not because I wanted to.
Because my body felt slow.
Heavy.
Disconnected.
Like every movement had to push through something thick and invisible.
The water was already running.
Steam rising.
Waiting.
I stepped under it.
The heat hit instantly.
Too hot.
Too sharp.
I didn’t adjust it.
I let it burn.
Let it sting.
Let it bite into my skin.
Like maybe it would erase something.
The dock.
The gun.
His hands.
His voice.
The way my body reacted.
I scrubbed harder.
My arms.
My shoulders.
My neck.
Every place he had touched.
Every place he hadn’t.
It didn’t help.
Nothing washed away.
Nothing softened.
Nothing changed the fact that I was still here.
Still in his world.
Still caught.
I stayed under the water longer than I should have.
Until my skin turned pink.
Until the heat stopped feeling sharp.
Until everything just felt numb.
When I finally stepped out, the air felt cold against my skin.
The robe waited.
Soft.
Expensive.
Not comforting.
The clothes were laid out neatly beside it.
Dark silk.
Fitted.
Precise.
I dressed without thinking.
Didn’t look at myself again.
Didn’t want to.
Didn’t trust what I might see.
When I opened the door—
he was there.
Of course he was.
He hadn’t moved far.
He was standing near the bed.
Jacket gone.
Shirt open at the collar.
Sleeves still rolled.
Waiting.
The air shifted the second I stepped out.
Not sharp.
Not violent.
Something quieter.
Something heavier.
I stopped a few feet away.
Didn’t move closer.
Didn’t step back.
Just—
stopped.
He moved first.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not crowding.
Not forcing.
His hand lifted.
I tensed instinctively.
But—
he didn’t grab.
Didn’t hold.
His thumb brushed along my jaw.
Light.
Careful.
Unexpected.
My breath caught.
His touch moved slower this time.
Tracing.
Not claiming.
His fingers slid to my cheek.
Then lower.
Brushing the corner of my mouth.
Then—
his hand settled at my neck.
Not tight.
Not threatening.
Resting.
Anchoring.
His eyes held mine.
Steady.
Unreadable.
And then—
he leaned down.
Pressed his lips to my forehead.
Soft.
Warm.
Still.
The kiss lingered.
Not rushed.
Not demanding.
Intentional.
My breath slowed.
Without permission.
My shoulders loosened.
Without permission.
My body leaned—
just slightly—
into him.
Before I could stop it.
Before I could think.
Before I could remember.
And that—
that scared me more than anything else.
I stepped back immediately.
Breaking it.
Breaking whatever that was.
“I’m not sleeping in here.”
My voice was quiet.
But steady.
Certain.
I didn’t wait for a response.
Didn’t want one.
I turned.
Walked out.
My steps faster this time.
More controlled.
He didn’t follow.
Didn’t call out.
Didn’t stop me.
----
The living room felt bigger now.
Too big.
Too empty.
Too quiet.
I didn’t explore.
Didn’t look around.
Didn’t want to see more of this place.
Didn’t want to feel how easily it could swallow me.
I went straight to the couch.
Curled onto my side.
Pulled my knees in.
The city lights filtered through the glass.
Soft gold.
Distant.
Untouchable.
I stared at them.
For a long time.
My body still felt off.
Like it hadn’t caught up to everything that had happened.
Like it was still trying to decide how to react.
If he was watching—
I didn’t look.
If he was angry—
he didn’t show it.
If he was waiting—
I didn’t want to know.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
It never did anymore.
But eventually—
exhaustion pulled me under.