OWNED BY MY STEPBROTHER

"You’re not here for protection, Jade. You’re here because I’m the only one who knows exactly where to keep an eye on a girl with your kind of secrets." — Silas. “I know the sound your knife made when it hit the floor, Jade. Do you?” My hand shook so violently the paper rattled like dry bones. It was the third one this week. Each message was more daring, more intimate, stripped of the anonymity that usually protected a stalker. This person wasn’t just watching me; they were breathing down my neck. I shoved the note into the waistband of my jeans, the jagged edges of the paper stinging my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird hitting the bars of a cage. I needed to breathe. I needed to— The door to my bedroom swung open with a crash that made me scream. My mother stood in the threshold, her face the color of ash. In her hand, she held a thick, cream-colored envelope—the kind that usually held wedding invitations. But the horror etched into her features told a different story. “J-Jade…” her voice broke, a fragile, high-pitched sound. “When… when did this start?” She held the letter out. My vision blurred as I read the bold, black ink scrawled across the back of a photo of me sleeping in my own bed A killer shouldn't sleep so soundly. “Mom, I—” “We’re moving you,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the window as if the boogeyman was already climbing the glass. “Today. Now. You aren't safe in this house, and you certainly aren't safe in a freshman dorm.” “Where?” I gasped, the walls of my room suddenly feeling like they were closing in. “To Silas,” my stepfather’s voice boomed from the hallway. He appeared behind my mother, his face set in a grim line of paternal authority. “He has the off-campus house. It’s gated. It’s secure. Silas is the only person I trust to keep an eye on you twenty-four hours a day while we figure out who is doing this.” My stomach dropped into a cold, dark abyss. Silas. The car ride to the off-campus house was a funeral procession. Silas sat in the driver’s seat of his black SUV, his hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. His knuckles were white, his profile looking like it had been carved from a block of Antarctic ice. He didn't look at me. Not once. It was the same coldness he’d greeted me with the day our parents married three years ago. I remembered standing in my floral dress, clutching a gift I’d bought him with my saved allowance—a book on architecture I thought he’d like. He hadn't even reached out to take it. He’d just looked through me as if I were a smudge on a windowpane. I’d wanted a brother. I’d wanted that bond you see in movies—someone to shield me, someone to laugh with. Instead, I got Silas Thorne. A wall of glass that never broke and never warmed. I shifted in the leather seat, the silence in the car so heavy I could feel it in my lungs. I wanted to reach out, to say anything to break the tension, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Every time my eyes strayed toward his sharp jawline or the way his charcoal sweater hugged his shoulders, my mind flashed back to that night. The metallic scent of— No. I bit my lip until I tasted copper, forcing the memory back into the dark basement of my mind. I couldn't go there. Not with him sitting three feet away. Silas pulled the SUV into the driveway of a sprawling, ivy-covered brick fortress. He killed the engine, but he didn't move. He just stared straight ahead through the windshield. “Get your things,” he said. His voice was a low, melodic rasp—devoid of emotion, yet carrying a weight that made my skin prickle. He grabbed my suitcase from the trunk with a clinical efficiency, walking toward the heavy oak front door without waiting for me. I followed him like a ghost, my sneakers squeaking on the polished hardwood floors of the entryway. The house was beautiful, expensive, and utterly soulless. It smelled like him—sandalwood and the sharp, ozone scent of a coming storm. “Your room is upstairs. End of the hall,” he said, dropping my bag by the stairs. He finally turned to face me, and the impact of his gaze was like a physical blow. His eyes were the color of a winter sea—beautiful, lethal, and completely indifferent. “Since you’re going to be living under my roof, we need to establish the boundaries,” he said, stepping into my personal space. He was 6'3", and he used every inch of it to loom over me. “Rule number one: My room is off-limits. You don't knock. You don't enter. You don't exist near that door.” I swallowed hard, my back hitting the cool plaster of the wall. “Silas, I’m sorry about the—the trouble. I didn't mean for any of this to—” “Rule number two,” he cut me off, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned down, his lips hovering just inches from the shell of my ear. The heat radiating off him was a lie I knew the man underneath was made of permafrost. “Stay out of my way. At the University, we are strangers. Do not speak to me. Do not look for me. In public, you are nothing more than a ghost I happen to share an address with.” He pulled back, his eyes tracking the way my pulse was jumping in the hollow of my throat. For a split second, something dark and predatory flickered in the depths of his pupils—something that looked less like a brother and more like a warden. “And Rule number three,” he breathed, his gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes. “Don't think for a second that your little problem child act is going to work on me. I see you, Jade. I see every lie you’re trying to hide behind those big, tragic eyes.” He reached out, his long fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my neck for a fraction of a second—a touch so light it could have been a hallucination, yet it felt like a brand. “Go to your room, Sun Flower” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me trembling in the hallway. I watched his back disappear into the shadows of the kitchen, a familiar ache blooming in my chest. I had wanted a brother to protect me from the world. Instead, I’d been handed to the one person who knew exactly how to destroy me. I climbed the stairs, each step feeling like a mile. When I reached my new room, I didn't unpack. I just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door. There was no lock on the inside. Silas didn't need to lock me in. He knew I had nowhere else to go. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A new message was waiting. From — Silas? “Welcome home”