The silence stretched thin, cutting into me like glass. Adrian's words lingered in the air—one condition—and every instinct screamed that I needed to demand more, to force clarity from him before he slipped away and left me spiraling again.
"What's the condition?" I asked, my voice sharp, biting. I didn't bother disguising the venom. He wanted me cornered. Fine—I'd show him fangs.
His eyes locked onto mine, unflinching, unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he answered.
"You will see your brother when I notice obedience from you. Not fake compliance, not lip service. Real obedience."
The words struck like a whip. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
"That's it?" My laugh came bitter, harsh. "You want me crawling at your feet like some obedient pet before you'll let me see Daniel? That's your great condition?"
Adrian's gaze hardened. "Don't diminish my words with childish mockery. It isn't about crawling. It's about understanding where power lies. When I see that you've learned, when I see obedience in your actions—you'll see him."
I stepped forward, fists trembling at my sides. "You don't get to decide that! He's my brother, not your bargaining chip."
"I already told you," Adrian said, voice low but cutting, "I haven't touched him. At least… not yet."
The chill in his tone froze the blood in my veins. The way he said it—it wasn't a direct threat, but it carried weight, the kind of weight that pressed against my chest until I could hardly breathe.
"You bastard," I hissed, heat flooding my cheeks. "You think that makes you sound powerful? No, Adrian—it makes you sound like a coward. Only a coward uses someone's family like this."
He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. His stillness was worse than shouting; it was like striking steel and finding it unyielding.
"You've misunderstood again," Adrian said, his voice even colder now. "This isn't about power. It's about control. And you'll learn—whether you want to or not—that in this house, control belongs to me."
My nails dug into my palms so deep I thought they'd break skin. "And what if I refuse? What if I never bow to you? Will you just keep me locked here, dangling your condition over me like bait?"
"If that's what it takes," Adrian replied without hesitation, "then yes. I can wait."
His certainty terrified me more than any threat could. It wasn't arrogance—it was conviction. He believed every word he spoke, and that made him dangerous.
"You're cruel," I whispered, not because I wanted to soften him, but because the fury in me needed to label what I was facing.
Adrian's eyes glinted, sharp as ice. "Cruel? No. I'm honest. Cruelty would be harming your brother to force you into submission. I haven't done that." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping like a blade against my ear. "Not yet."
The air left my lungs in a shudder, but I stood my ground. "You'll never get what you want from me," I spat. "Not like this. If you think obedience means breaking me, then you'll be waiting forever."
For a long moment, we stood there, locked in a battle of silence—his cold dominance against my burning defiance. Then, with the calm detachment of a man who already knew the outcome of the game, Adrian stepped back.
"Think about it," he said. "Your rage means nothing. Your words mean nothing. Only actions matter. When I see obedience, you'll see your brother. Until then…" He moved toward the door, his back impossibly straight, his hand steady on the handle. "…you'll remain here. And you'll remember this conversation every second you spend apart from him."
I lunged forward a step, desperate, furious. "Don't you dare walk away from me now—"
But he was already pulling the door open, his composure infuriatingly intact.
"Think," Adrian repeated, savage calm lacing his voice. "That's the only mercy you'll get from me."
And then the door closed behind him.
Not locked.
Not barred.
But the weight of his condition pressed down harder than any chain.