...
"I can't," I gasped, struggling under the pressure of his grip.
"Then I'll make you," Slavvy hissed, his tone low but burning. His hands tightened around my wrists, not painfully, but enough to remind me who held the power. His eyes locked on mine, the darkness in them pulling me under.
A shiver ran through me — not just from fear, but confusion. My body trembled as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Nobody had ever dared to touch me, to confront me like this.
My breath quickened as his face came closer, his breath brushing my neck. "Tell me, Tess," he whispered, his voice deep and dangerous. "Tell me before I lose what's left of my patience."
"Slavvy…" I whispered, trying to steady myself. I didn't know whether to fight or surrender.
The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating. My thoughts were a storm — anger, fear, desire, guilt — all tangled together until I couldn't tell which was which.
When he spoke again, his voice broke through the chaos like fire.
"What are you hiding from me?"
His words pierced deeper than his grip. My chest tightened as tears began to form. I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to go there.
But the dam broke.
"My mom was only eight months pregnant with me when my dad left," I began, my voice trembling. "She fell apart. She wanted to end it all — even me. She used to hurt me when I was little… she'd make me sleep on an empty stomach. For years."
Slavvy's jaw clenched, but he stayed silent, his hands loosening around my wrists.
"One day she changed. She begged for forgiveness. I forgave her," I whispered. "But her family never wanted me. When we visited them…"
I froze. My lips quivered, and the air around me turned cold.
"My uncle…" My voice cracked. "He—he hurt me. He destroyed me. And when I tried to speak, he threatened to kill me. I was a child."
The tears came then, unstoppable. "After that… I started breaking myself. Cutting, starving, trying to end everything. I hated my life, Slavvy. I wanted it to stop."
His eyes went cold — not the usual dangerous cold, but something darker. He stood up abruptly, his fists clenching so hard I heard the bones strain.
"I'm going to kill him," he muttered, his voice shaking with rage.
"Slavvy, no!" I pleaded, grabbing his arm. "It's the past. You can't—please don't."
He yanked his arm free, his face twisted with fury. "He tortured you. He doesn't deserve to live."
I could see it in his eyes — that part of him that had no limits. The part that could burn down the world for me if I asked… or even if I didn't.
He pulled out his phone. "Find out everything about Testimony Broncos. Every detail," he ordered someone on the other end. His tone was sharp, commanding — the voice of a man used to being obeyed.
When he hung up, I whispered, "Slavvy, you're overreacting."
He turned to me slowly. His voice was calm now, too calm.
"He made you bleed. He made you hate yourself. You call that overreacting?"
I froze. The look in his eyes made my blood run cold — it wasn't love anymore. It was vengeance.
"He's my uncle," I shouted. "You can't just—"
Slavvy stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "It doesn't matter. He dies."
I stormed off, slamming the door behind me, but I could still feel his eyes burning into my back. I collapsed onto my bed, trembling. My past was tearing through my present, and the man I thought was saving me was turning into my biggest nightmare.
The door creaked open again. I didn't look up. "Get out," I muttered.
He didn't move. I felt him standing there, silent. The air was heavy.
"Leave me alone," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Then he moved — slow, deliberate — and sat beside me. His hand brushed my hair, and though his touch was gentle, it carried the weight of everything unsaid.
"I'll never leave you alone," he whispered, his voice soft but broken.
And I realized — I wasn't sure if that was a promise or a warning.
His presence consumed the room, and I felt trapped — not by walls, but by the gravity of him. I wanted to run, but part of me wanted to stay, to believe that even in his madness, he loved me.
"Slavvy…" I whispered, meeting his eyes.
He smirked faintly, but his gaze softened. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured. "You make me lose control."
I swallowed hard, my heart thundering.
"Because when I look at you," he whispered, "I see everything I never had — and everything I can't lose."
The silence after that was louder than any scream.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Because deep down, I knew — I was already his prisoner.
..