Something inside me snapped.
Not loudly.
Not suddenly.
Her hand was still reaching for the box.
Her shadow still pressed against me.
Her voice sharp with possession still hung in the air.
That was when I turned.
For the first time since she had brought me here, since the elevator, since the car, since the first word she had spoken to me as if I belonged to her.
I moved first.
My hand came up fast.
Not to strike.
Never that.
I caught her face between my fingers, firm, unyielding, my thumb pressing into her cheek just enough to make her freeze. It was the first time I had touched her. The first time I had chosen contact instead of enduring it.
Her breath hitched.
I stepped forward, forcing her back until her spine met the wall behind her. The box remained behind me, shielded by my body.
Her eyes widened not with fear, but shock.
I leaned in, close enough that my voice didn't need volume.
"Sorry," I said quietly.
Not apologetic.
Final.
"But you don't get to touch this."
The chant burned steady in my chest, no longer frantic.
Radha… steady me.
"I don't need your royalty."
"I don't need your house."
"I don't need your job."
"And I certainly don't need you."
Each word was filled with plain honesty.
She, well was shell-shocked to the core.
"You crossed a line," I said. "Your men touched that box. I tolerated that. I endured it."
My grip tightened just enough for emphasis.
"But you? No."
I leaned closer, my voice dropping into something colder than anger.
"You don't get to lay claim to what you don't understand."
The room was silent.
Heavy.
Charged.
And for the first time since she had dragged me into her world, she was the one who didn't move.
Behind me, the box remained untouched.
Unseen.
Safe.
Radha… thank you.