Chapter 7

Rosa POV

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, my breath catching in my throat as Drake’s words echoed off the bedroom walls.

“I never said I'd let anyone else put their hands on you.”

The confession hung in the air, dense and suffocating, bridging the gap between his strict rules and his unpredictable, feral protectiveness. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to back away, to build a fortress out of sarcasm and put a mile of distance between us.

Instead of melting against him, survival mode kicked in. I planted both palms flat against his chest and shoved hard.

Drake didn’t budge an inch. He remained anchored to the spot, caging me in, his chest rising and falling heavily against my hands. But his eyes flared with a sudden, sharp intensity as he looked down at me.

The air between us grew thick enough to cut with a knife. The space in the guest room suddenly felt microscopic. His gaze dropped slowly from my eyes down to my mouth, lingering on my lips with a hunger that made my stomach flip violently.

I parted my lips, my mind completely short-circuiting, half-bracing and half-hoping he would close the distance.

For an agonizing heartbeat, he leaned in closer.

Then, abruptly, Drake froze.

The muscle in his jaw clenched hard. I watched the realization flash across his face, the sudden, violent braking of a man realizing he was driving a car straight off a cliff. He caught himself right at the edge, his eyes snapping back up to meet mine with a furious frustration.

Before I could even process what was happening, Drake ripped his hands away from the wall. He stepped back, denying me the satisfaction of a fight, and turned on his heel, walking out of the guest room without another word. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

I stood there frozen against the drywall, my skin literally burning where he had stood. “Did he just... walk away from me?”

Panic surged through my veins in equal measure. I started pacing the length of the small guest room, running my hands through my hair, utterly furious. He drops a bomb like that, cages me against the wall, looks at me like he wants to devour me alive, and then just walks out?! Who does he think he is?

Staring at the closed door, my skin still felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending hum with the memory of how close he’d stood.

It wasn't even the first time he’d shattered his own barrier. Weeks ago during an intense night of studying with Chloe, I’d slipped into the dark hallway for water, my bare feet padding softly against the floorboards. I’d caught my heel on the edge of the runner rug, my ankle rolling as the floor rushed up to meet me.

Before I could hit the ground, a large, bruising hand had shot out of the dark.

Long, calloused fingers had wrapped completely around my bare waist, yanking me forward with effortless strength to haul me flush against a chest that felt like solid granite.

"Careful, Rosa," Drake had murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated straight through my bones.

In the dark hallway, his eyes had been completely blown out, his pupils swallowing the dark brown irises as his thumb twitched against my bare waist, tracing circle just above my hip bone.

Neither of us had moved. We’d stood bare inches apart, wrapped in the jagged sound of our breathing, until he’d leaned down to whisper right against my ear: " You should probably run back to your study session before you break a bone."

Standing alone in the guest room now, the frustration was overwhelming. He was toying with my head, locking his control back into place just to leave me spinning.

---

The next morning, the house felt entirely different.

The playful, casual hostility of the previous day had evaporated, replaced by a much more heavy atmosphere. I avoided the common areas like the plague, staying locked in the guest room until my bladder forced me to venture out.

When I crept into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, I ran straight into Chloe.

She looked up from her coffee mug, eyeing me warily. She was clearly still recovering from the emotional shrapnel of the arena drama.

"Hey," she said softly, leaning against the counter. "Listen, Rosa... about yesterday. I need you to know my brother is an idiot. Please tell me you're keeping your distance from him. After the way he went off on Cole, and the way he acts... I just don't want you getting caught in his toxic orbit, okay? He treats everything like a game he has to win."

A guilty flush crept up my neck, and I forced a stiff nod, looking away. "Don't worry, Chloe. I'm steering clear of him."

"Good," she sighed, checking her phone. "Because he's a wildfire, and you're the only sane person I have left to talk to."

I escaped to campus shortly after, desperate for the distraction of lectures and essays. But the buzzing energy of the past twenty four hours followed me all day.

By late afternoon, after a brutal four-hour block of classes and seminars, I walked out of the academic building and crossed the sprawling asphalt parking lot toward my car.

The sun was dipping below the tree line, casting long, orange shadows across the rows of vehicles. As I approached my sedan, I noticed the tire at the rear passenger side was flat as a pancake.

I groaned in annoyance, tossing my backpack on the hood of the car and stormed over to inspect the tire. Embedded right in the rubber was a thick, unmistakable metal screw.

Worse yet, folded over the driver's side wiper blade was a piece of cream cardstock with my name scrawled across it in messy, arrogant handwriting.

I snatched the note off the windshield, tearing it open just as a deep, low rumble echoed across the quiet lot.

A sleek, matte-black SUV rolled smoothly down the lane, idling to a stop just a few feet from my bumper. The driver's side door clicked open, and a pair of expensive leather shoes stepped out on the asphalt.

I looked up, my jaw tightening instantly.

Cole Montgomery flashed a slow, infuriatingly smooth smile, tucking his car keys into his pocket as he walked toward me.

"Nice parking job, Rosa," Cole drawled, stopping just outside my space. "Though I figured a flat tire was a small price to pay to finally get you alone. Since Drake made things so delightfully personal yesterday, I figured it was only fair I come to finish our conversation properly.”