The blue light of the servers flickered against the cold stone walls, casting rhythmic pulses across the dossiers that outlined my stolen life. The "Phoenix Protocol"—it wasn't a rescue mission; it was a harvest.
"You orchestrated the 'accident' to trigger the decryption," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "The collision, the hospital bills, the 'protection'... you were just waiting for the trauma to settle so you could plug me in."
Yuri didn't flinch. He moved into the room with a heavy, grounded presence, his shadow stretching over the evidence of his betrayal. "The UNI was already moving, Jessy. They don't use silk and marble. They use scalpels and memory wipes. I chose a path that kept your mind intact. I chose a path that brought you to me."
"You chose to break me!" I yelled, the sound echoing off the low ceiling. "You didn't 'claim' me, Yuri. You hijacked me."
He was suddenly there, closing the distance before I could retreat. He didn't use the clinical touch of the earlier weeks. He grabbed the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the hair Elena had so carefully pinned up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were a storm of gray—no longer the cold administrator, but something raw and terrifyingly honest.
"I watched you for two years," he rasped, his breath hot against my face. "I watched you study, I watched you laugh with friends, I watched you exist in a world that had no idea you were carrying the key to its destruction. And every day, I hated the fact that I was the one who would eventually have to pull the trigger on your innocence."
"You did it anyway," I spat, my chest heaving against his.
"Because I would rather be the monster who keeps you breathing than the saint who lets you die," he growled.
He leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine. It wasn't the polished waltz of the gala; it was a collision. It was the taste of iron and salt, a desperate, dark surrender. He was a man trying to claim the soul he had helped fracture, and for a terrifying, fleeting moment, the hatred in my heart blurred into a jagged, electric need. My hands, which should have been clawing at his eyes, found the fabric of his shirt, gripping him with a ferocity that matched his own.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine, his thumb bruising the skin of my jaw. "Hate me, Jessy. Burn this house down if you have to. But don't you dare tell me you feel nothing when I touch you."
The servers hummed, a constant, digital reminder of the code that bound us together. I looked at the man who had ruined me, and the realization was more painful than the car crash: he hadn't just stolen my past. He had made himself the only future I had left.
"The code is opening," I whispered, my eyes darting to the screen behind him. "Whatever is in that final file... once it's out, you won't need me anymore. What happens to the key when the door is already open?"
Yuri's grip tightened, his eyes darkening to the color of the sea before a wreck. "I'll melt it down," he whispered. "And I'll keep the gold."