Ava's POV
Marcus’s hand stayed on my lower back as he walked me out of the office. His touch was warm, steady, but it felt wrong now. Like a lie. Every step I took made the file burn hotter in my mind—the names, the photos, the note about keeping me compliant. His fingers pressed a little harder, guiding me toward the guest wing, toward the bed where hours ago I’d felt safe.
I stopped walking.
“Ava?” He turned, face half in shadow. The hallway was dark except for a sliver of moonlight through the tall window at the end.
“I left something in the office.” My voice came out flat. Dead.
“It can wait until morning.”
“No.” I pulled away from his hand. “It can’t.”
Before he could argue, I walked back. My bare feet were silent on the hardwood, but I heard his heavier steps right behind me.
