He was in front of me, his presence filling the space between us.
His eyes were stone, but his movements were purposeful. His hand plunged into his pocket, and I couldn't breathe—not out of terror, but out of appalled uncertainty as to what he might do.
A key. A weapon. Neither.
His cellphone.
He touched the screen, and I could hear it—the soft click as the door closed behind me.
You don't have to remain," he said, putting his phone away in his pocket. His voice was level, persuasive, and too gentle to be authentic. "But where would you head?"
My stomach tightened.
Not locked in by chains, but trapped all the same.
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, yet his voice was soft, almost affectionate. "Whatever is outside these walls belongs to me to command. The protection, the
