Ann woke to the soft hum of an unfamiliar engine and the smell of leather and Daniel's cologne thick in the air. For a moment she thought it was a dream — another nightmare where she was trapped under his touch, caught between the warmth that made her weak and the cold iron that kept her here.
But the leather under her cheek was real. So were the silk restraints looped around her wrists — not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind her she wasn't free.
She shifted, blinking against the dim light. They were in his car — not the black SUV she'd seen behind the trees, but his personal car. Sleek, dark, silent as a shadow sliding down an alley. Daniel's car.
He was beside her, of course — one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on her thigh like an anchor she couldn't shake. He didn't look at her when he felt her stir, but his fingers drummed once against her leg.
"Good. You're awake." His voice was low, calm. That calm terrified her more than shouting ever could.
Ann shifted under his touch. The silk bit into her wrists when she moved. "Where are you taking me?" Her throat was raw.
Daniel's eyes flicked to hers in the rearview mirror — dark pools of calm control. "Home."
A laugh clawed its way up her throat. It sounded wrong, cracked. "Home? Which prison is that, Daniel? The penthouse? The house on the coast? Or one of the empty villas you keep like coffins for all your secrets?"
His fingers flexed on her leg. Not harsh — not yet. "Watch your mouth, Ann."
She turned her face away, pressed her temple to the cold window. The world outside was a blur — trees, moonlight, empty roads that felt like veins feeding her back into his heart whether she wanted it or not.
She didn't speak again until the car slowed and turned onto a winding driveway lined with old stone walls. She knew this place. She'd only been here once — early in their marriage, when he'd brought her to see it like a gift.
A hidden estate deep in the countryside. Gardens that wrapped the house like secrets. High walls, iron gates, no neighbors for miles. A place no one could leave unless he opened the gate himself.
A cage. But softer than the penthouse — soft enough to make her forget it was a cage at all.
The car stopped under the wide stone arch. Daniel cut the engine, but he didn't move to untie her. He just sat there, watching her with an expression she couldn't name — something between hunger and sorrow.
"You should rest," he said softly. "You've run enough for today."
She laughed again — sharp, bitter. "Rest? So you can tie me to your bed?"
His mouth twitched — not a smile, but the ghost of one. "If I did, would you hate me less or more?"
She jerked against the silk restraints. "I'd hate you forever."
He leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead — gentle, so gentle it burned. "Good. That means you're still mine."
He untied her wrists himself — slow, careful, as if the silk were gold. He slipped the knots free like he was unwrapping a gift he'd given himself.
When he touched her hand, she flinched. He ignored it.
"Come inside," he murmured. "It's cold."
She almost told him to go to hell. But her legs were unsteady, her head still foggy, and she knew he'd carry her if she refused. So she stepped out on her own.
Inside, the house was warm, almost painfully so after the chill outside. A fire flickered in the grand stone hearth. The old beams overhead creaked when she crossed the threshold, barefoot, dressed only in the clothes she'd worn to run.
Daniel guided her to a chair near the fire. He knelt in front of her — the king on his knees, the monster pretending he could be human for her alone.
He took her cold hands in his. His thumbs brushed the faint red marks where the silk had pressed her skin.
"I didn't want to hurt you." His voice was so quiet she almost missed it under the crackle of the flames. "You left me no choice, Ann."
She snorted. "There's always a choice, Daniel. You just like the ones that keep me on a leash."
His eyes lifted to hers — dark and bright all at once. "And yet you're here."
"I didn't come back!" Her voice cracked. "You dragged me. You threatened Victor—"
His fingers tightened just enough to stop her words. "Victor lied to you. He always has. He would have sold you the moment you became too expensive to hide. You think he cares about your freedom?"
Her breath shuddered out. "And you do?"
His grip softened. His thumbs traced her pulse, as if feeling the proof she was real. Alive. Still his.
"I care about you more than my own life," he murmured. "And that is the only truth that matters now."
Ann yanked her hands back like they burned. She shot to her feet, stumbled, caught herself on the arm of the chair.
"Lock me up, then," she spat. "Hide me here. Chain me to your bed. Do it, Daniel. But don't you dare call this love."
He stood too — calm, tall, casting a shadow that swallowed hers. "You don't get to tell me what this is. You knew what I was the moment you said yes."
Her chest heaved. "I didn't know—"
He stepped closer. She backed up until her knees hit the edge of the bed behind her — the same bed where he'd once whispered soft lies and stolen promises.
"You knew," he said again, softer now. His hand caught her chin, forcing her eyes to his. "You knew what I was, and you stayed. You stayed because you wanted this — the monster, the king. The danger. Me."
Tears burned her eyes. She hated him for being right. She hated herself more for wanting him still.
His hand dropped. He turned away, pacing the edge of the room like a predator in a too-small cage. When he spoke again, his voice was raw — more dangerous than when he was calm.
"You want freedom? Earn it." He swung back to face her. "Stand in front of me, look me in the eye, and tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't want me. Tell me, and I'll let you go tonight."
Her mouth opened. The words tangled on her tongue. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it would crack.
She wanted to say it — I don't love you. I don't want you. Let me go.
But her silence betrayed her. Her silence damned her.
Daniel's smile was soft — and sharp enough to cut. "That's what I thought."
He crossed the space between them in two strides. His hands framed her face — so gentle, so cruel.
"You are mine, Ann. And until you can say you're not, this cage is your home."
When he kissed her, she didn't fight him.
Not this time.
Not yet.
Because in the back of her mind, something colder than his touch whispered: I will get out. And when I do, I'll make you regret teaching me how to love monsters.