Sylvia's POV
Zane's grip was bruising, his fingers digging into my flesh with all the subtlety of a trap snapping shut. "Let go! Zane, you're—disgusting!" My voice tore out hoarse, echoing through the cold, gleaming confines of the underground parking garage. I tried to twist my wrist away.
From the darkness at the edge of the garage, I caught a flicker of movement. Leo. Of course. Zane wasn't dumb enough to come here alone. I saw the glint of a phone in Leo's hand, recording every humiliating second. Zane planned this—wanted evidence he could twist into a weapon. Proof he could dangle in front of anyone who might doubt his hold over me, anyone questioning his narrative.
His laugh was a poison-dipped dagger. "You think you can outsmart me, Sylvia? I'm going to make sure Frostlin
