Lyra's POV
His lips twitched into something between a grin and a snarl. "You’re a firebrand, aren’t you? I like that." He withdrew his hand slowly, the amusement never leaving his face. "You will be mine, Lyra. Whether you accept it or not."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" I asked, my voice sharp. "Because it doesn’t."
His smile faded, replaced by a steely look. "It will."
I stared at him, defiant, refusing to let him see the flicker of fear that threatened to rise. I wasn’t going to bend. I wasn’t going to break.
"Maybe not," he mused, his fingers curling into a fist. "But I’ll make you want to be. And when you do, you’ll realize just how little control you ever had."
The sharp wind outside the prison cut through me like a blade, but it wasn’t the cold that chilled me now—it was th
