Chapter 21

**ALEXANDER**

She stopped. Her body trembled ever so slightly, and I knew it was from fear.

What she didn’t know was that I fed on fear. I drank it in, thrived on it. A low, sharp laugh escaped me, the sound grating even to my own ears. She flinched—but she didn’t run.

Interesting.

“Turn around.”

She didn’t.

Of course she didn't.

She never fucking listens.

Red-hot anger surged through me. No one ignored me. No one dared to challenge me. And yet, this girl—this tiny, fragile girl—kept testing my patience, over and over again.

Jaw tightening, I took a step closer.

“Turn around,” I snapped, my voice laced with a sharp edge of warning.

She jumped but finally—finally—swiveled around, her movements quick but hesitant.

She kept her gaze down. Refusing to look at me.

My patience thinned. I wanted to see those damn eyes. Those defiant, storm-filled eyes that challenged me at every turn.

I blinked at the thought.

What the fuck?

Shaking it off, I studied her.

Her stubbornness was infuriating.

“Look at me,” I ordered before I could stop myself.

Silence.

My fingers tightened around the gun. I waited.

Still, she refused.

If she were one of my men, I would have shot her for this level of disobedience. But I didn’t move.

Instead, I watched as she slowly—so painfully fucking slow—lifted her chin, her gaze locking onto mine.

Defiance blazed in her eyes. Not fear. Not submission. Defiance.

She was standing here, alone with a dangerous man who could destroy her with a single command, and yet she still acted as if she had some kind of power in this situation. As if she wasn’t trapped in my house, under my control.

I should have been furious.

I wanted to be furious.

But all I could think was—

She’s fucking breathtaking when she fights back.

Her gaze shifted and fixed on the window, deliberately avoiding mine. My jaw clenched. Stubborn little thing.

I took a step closer, my jaw tightening.

"Look at me."

Slowly, her lashes flickered, and she turned her head just enough for those wide, doe-like eyes to meet mine. Something in my chest tightened. I sucked in a breath and took a step closer.

Now that I had her attention, I couldn’t look away. The delicate slope of her nose, the fullness of her pink lips—my gaze lingered there for a fraction too long.

Then, suddenly, she took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself like a fragile shield. Her body shook with silent tremors, her breath uneven.

My little vixen… afraid?

That was a first.

Her eyes flickered downward, landing on the gun in my grip. The second she did, something twisted deep inside me—an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling I didn’t have time to dissect.

I took another step forward, closing the distance between us. When she glanced up at me again, I caught the shimmer of unshed tears in those striking green eyes, barely contained behind thick lashes. But she didn’t let them fall. She refused to let them fall.

The fight in her was still there, but so was the fear. A war raging behind her trembling form.

I lowered the gun slowly, my gaze locked onto hers. She flinched.

Something inside me snapped.

Fuck.

I should have relished her reaction. Should have enjoyed watching her realize just how powerless she was against me.

But I didn’t.

She took another step back. Instinct roared to life inside me, and I growled,

“Don’t move.”

She flinched again, her shoulders stiffening.

My heart hammered against my ribs. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I closed the space between us until our chests almost touched. Her body trembled beneath my touch, and I felt it. Her fear was palpable, like an electric current running through her, and when she whimpered softly, my stomach tightened. She hugged herself tighter, trying to shrink away, to hide in plain sight. But I was too close.

I lifted my hand, deliberately slow, and brushed it against her face. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away. Silent tears leaked from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks, and I instinctively wiped one away with my thumb. She froze, and I felt her inhale sharply.

And for a moment, I froze too.

Something in me twisted—a gnawing feeling I didn’t recognize, like a crack in the mask I wore. Before I could stop myself, my hand moved, fingers threading through the strands of hair hanging over her face. I brushed it aside gently, exposing her fully to me.

Her eyes met mine then—green, stormy, full of defiance but undeniably shattered. A small part of her was still fighting, still trying to act like she wasn’t falling apart beneath me. But her eyes… they betrayed her.

She swallowed hard, her lips trembling. Her gaze was glassy, but there was a flicker of strength buried deep, somewhere behind that vulnerability. It made me pause, a momentary flicker of doubt in my chest. I brushed my thumb over her soft cheek, tracing the path of another tear as it fell.

When she didn’t try to pull away, I took several steps back, my hands falling to my sides. The warmth of her skin lingered on my fingers, and I had to clench my jaw to stop myself from doing something I’d regret.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me—sadness, tenderness, and then… anger.

I clenched my fists. I couldn’t afford to feel that softness, not with her. So, I buried it, let the anger consume me. It was safer that way.

I couldn’t afford to be weak. Too many people were counting on me, too many lives at stake. I had a reputation to uphold, a power to maintain. I couldn’t let her, or anything else, shake me.

So, I dug deeper into the anger, let it consume me until every fiber of my being was burning with it. It pulsed in my veins, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles cracked. I glared at her, the gun back in my hand, pointed directly at her chest, my finger resting on the trigger.

Her eyes widened. She flinched, her hand coming up to her chest as if she could shield herself from me, and I saw that familiar tremor in her. She shook her head rapidly, her mouth opening and closing, struggling to say something.

I took a step forward, fury building in me like a storm I couldn’t control.

"Why the fuck are you pissing me off every damn minute?" I snarled, my voice low and deadly. Every word I spoke was laced with venom, like a warning she wasn’t smart enough to heed.

“And what’s with these fucking tears? You think you're gonna cry your way into my good graces, Alina Santini? Huh? You think you can melt me with that bullshit? Well, let me tell you something, you dumb girl—I don’t have a soft side. Not for you, not for anyone. The quicker you learn that, the better off you’ll be."

My grip on the gun tightened, and I felt the weight of her fear settle over me like a thick fog. Her silence only enraged me more, her vulnerability a challenge I couldn’t ignore. I took another step toward her, eyes narrowing.

“Now, I want to know,” I growled, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Why the fuck are you crying? And don’t give me some sob story. If you don’t give me a damn good reason, I’ll put you out of your misery before you can say another word."

She had a choice: give me the answer I wanted—or make me put my foot down the hard way.