Isabella’s POV
The silence stretched as he ran a hand down my arm—slow, possessive, familiar.
“You’ll learn to stop fighting,” he said softly, almost like a promise. “It’ll be easier for both of us that way.”
I didn’t answer. Just stared into the shadows dancing along the walls, feeling them crawl like ghosts over my skin.
His breathing deepened, steady and unbothered, like this was just another night to him. But for me, it was the beginning of a war I didn’t choose.
I lay still beside him, the storm raging outside mirroring the one brewing inside my chest.
I will play the role.
Smile when needed.
Touch when required.
Obey—for now.
But inside?
I will be sharpening my knives.
Because six months was a long time.
Long enough to learn every crack in his armor.
Long enough to plan my
