Chapter 18: The Price of Defiance

Reign drove the cream-colored double doors open with a single kick powerful enough to make both panels crash against the walls, and the violent sound that followed seemed to shake the entire corridor. I flinched in his arms, not only because of the noise but because of the frightening steadiness with which he kept walking as though splintering wood and bending metal were the most natural things in the world to him. He was carrying me in a bridal hold, yet there was nothing remotely tender in the way his body felt. His arm beneath my knees was rigid, the hand braced around my shoulder painfully tight, and every muscle pressed against me was drawn so hard that I could sense the fury coursing beneath his skin even without looking directly at his face. When I finally dared to glance up at him, the veins standing out along his neck and forearms told me enough. Reign was angry in a way that did not need shouting to announce itself.

He strode into a large room filled with rows of glowing monitors and black control panels, the cold lights from the screens flashing over his face in restless intervals. I barely had enough time to understand that he had brought me into some sort of surveillance room before he lowered me into a chair with an abruptness that sent pain shooting across my bruised back and down my injured ankle. A gasp escaped me, and I reached instinctively for the armrest, but before I could gather enough breath to protest, Reign planted both hands on either side of the chair and leaned down until I had nowhere to look except directly at him.

The air lodged somewhere in my throat.

His face was too close, his eyes too intent, and the sheer force of his presence swallowed the entire room until the humming monitors behind him seemed very far away. I could smell the faint sharpness of menthol mixed with something darker and expensive, could feel the warmth of his breathing touch my face, and could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart turning traitor inside my chest. He did not speak at once. He simply looked at me, and the silence stretched long enough to become unbearable.

When his voice finally came, it was low and restrained, which somehow made it more unsettling than if he had shouted.

“Why did you run?”

I swallowed, but the stubborn anger that had carried me through the terrace, through the forest, and through that disastrous fall still had enough life in it to keep my chin from lowering. “Why should I stay?” I shot back, my voice rougher than I intended. “No one asked you to drag me here in the first place.”

His jaw shifted, but he did not move away. If anything, he lowered his head even more until only a breath separated our faces. My fingers tightened over the chair because the sudden closeness made the fury inside me flicker under something far more unnerving. I had expected him to lash out, perhaps to squeeze my shoulders or slam his fist into something nearby, but this quiet invasion of my space was somehow worse. His eyes remained fixed on mine with an intensity that made me feel as though every layer of defiance I wore was being stripped apart one by one.

“Do you have any idea what would have happened if I had not reached you first?” he asked.

I let out a bitter laugh despite the tremor crawling through my body. “You say that as if I was supposed to be grateful. I was already trapped because of you.”

That finally made him straighten, though not in retreat. He turned away sharply and dragged one hand through his hair, his shoulders rising with a slow breath that looked suspiciously like an attempt to control himself. I stared at his back, confused despite myself, because I had not expected frustration from him. I had expected cold indifference, perhaps possessive arrogance, but there was something almost feral in the way he stood before those glowing screens as though he were wrestling not with me, but with his own temper.

Then he reached for the intercom clipped beside one of the monitors.

“Bring Elliott here. Now.”

The command snapped through the room with enough force to make me sit straighter. He set the intercom down and turned back toward me, and I felt my body tense all over again because his eyes had not softened in the slightest. They moved over me quickly this time, taking in the dirt on my dress, the scratches along my arms, the leaves caught in my hair, and finally the way I was favoring one foot. Something unreadable crossed his face before he started walking toward me again.

I wanted to remain angry, but the memory of the forest, the cliff, Isaac’s pursuit, and the shock of seeing him emerge from the dark with that lamp still clung too close to my nerves. The combination of exhaustion and pain was making my head throb, yet pride would not let me show weakness in front of him.

Unfortunately, pride had never been stronger than Reign’s hands.

The moment he reached me, he caught my arm and hauled me upright. Pain flared viciously through my ankle, and I hissed as I stumbled into him. My free hand shoved against his chest, but the movement might as well have been a feather striking stone.

“Let go of me,” I snapped, glaring up at him. “I am not one of your prisoners to drag around whenever you please.”

His fingers tightened for a second, and the look he gave me made heat and fear collide in the worst possible way. “You jumped off a third-floor terrace, ran barefoot through a forest at night, fell into a ravine, and still found enough strength to argue. I am beginning to question whether you have sense at all.”

“Oh, so now my recklessness concerns you?” I laughed bitterly. “That is rich coming from the man who bought me like furniture.”

The words left my mouth with all the venom I had left, and the instant they landed, my heartbeat stuttered because Reign’s expression changed. It was subtle, but I saw it. Something dark flashed behind his eyes before he stepped forward, forcing me backward until the edge of the chair hit the backs of my knees.

“You keep repeating that,” he said, his voice dropping into something quieter, rougher. “Bought. Owned. Prisoner. Is that all you think this is?”

I wanted to answer immediately, wanted to spit another insult in his face, but the proximity was dismantling my composure. His chest was nearly brushing mine, his hand still circled my arm, and his face hovered so near that each breath I drew came mixed with his. My pulse hammered so hard it made me furious with myself. This man had chased me through darkness, hauled me back like some disobedient captive, and yet my body had the audacity to notice how dangerously beautiful he looked when angry.

I hated it.

I hated the way those blue eyes held mine until looking away felt like weakness.

I hated the warmth of his hand even while it hurt.

Most of all, I hated that my voice betrayed the slightest tremor when I answered, “What else should I think? You never asked me what I wanted.”

For the first time since entering the room, something in his stare shifted. It did not soften, but it sharpened differently, as if my words had struck a place he had not prepared to defend. His grip loosened by a fraction, and that tiny change gave me just enough room to twist my arm free.

I turned at once, intending to limp toward the door if only to place distance between us, but I had barely taken a step when his hand caught my wrist again and yanked me backward. I lost balance completely and crashed into his chest. One arm locked around my waist to keep me upright while my palms flattened against him, and the contact sent a violent rush of awareness through me that was so immediate and so humiliating that I forgot to breathe for a second. His body was solid heat, unmovable, and the maddening steadiness of him against my disordered gasps made my anger feel dangerously unstable.

“Let me go,” I whispered, though the words came out thinner than I wanted.

Reign lowered his head, his mouth now only inches from mine, and I could no longer tell whether the dizziness inside me came from pain, exhaustion, or the unbearable closeness of this man. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, “but every time I do, you find a new way to throw yourself back into danger.”

I stared at him, speechless for one maddening moment, and then instinct overtook caution. My hand moved before my mind could stop it, and my palm struck his cheek with a sharp sound that cracked across the room.

The instant I did it, every drop of blood in my body turned cold.