Chapter 61
Sebastian
I made it to my study before the rage finally found an outlet. The door slammed shut, and I stabbed the button that activated the video conference system. Five terrified department heads appeared on screen.
"This quarter's numbers are a disgrace," I said, my voice cold and controlled. "Market share down fifteen percent. Three major clients lost. Someone explain to me how this happened."
They stammered their excuses, and with each word my fury grew, fed by the memory of Damian's hand on Lirael's shoulder, by the way she'd looked at him with trust, by the fact that even now she still wouldn't give me what I wanted.
Marcus entered, setting a folder on my desk. I flipped it open, scanning with growing disgust. Halfway through, I'd had enough. I grabbed the folder, tore it in half, then in half again, hurling the pieces at Marcus.
"This is garbage!" I snarled. "This is the kind of half-assed thinking that's dragging this entire organization down. You—and you—you're both fired. Clean out your desks. Gone by morning."
The meeting dissolved into chaos, but I'd already killed the feed. I leaned back and pressed my fingers against my temples, tasting blood from where she'd bitten me.
"Do you need pain medication, sir?" Marcus asked carefully.
I waved him off. "No. Just..." I pressed the button for the internal line. "What's she doing right now? The girl downstairs."
Marcus pulled up the security feeds. "She's standing in the main hall. Not moving. Not speaking to anyone."
I smiled grimly. Of course. Too smart to risk exposure, too proud to beg for help. Just standing there. Waiting. Planning.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Then the internal line buzzed.
"Sir, Miss Elena took some berries and apples from the kitchen. She's gone to the back garden."
I was on my feet before I'd consciously decided to move, my eyes flashing gold. She'd gone to the animals. Not to apologize, not to beg forgiveness—she'd gone to the fucking animals, seeking comfort from beasts instead of from me.
My chair skidded back. Marcus looked up sharply.
"Boss, your wounds—"
I cut him off with a gesture, already moving. "Later."
I took the stairs two at a time. The back garden was bathed in moonlight when I stepped through the French doors. I could see the row of steel enclosures: a black panther, a caracal, a juvenile grey wolf.
And there, crouched in front of the panther's cage, was Lirael.
She had berries in her hand, offering them through the bars. The panther, which had been snarling this morning, was now approaching with cautious curiosity. She was humming something under her breath, and as I watched, the panther's aggressive posture melted away.
"Do a roll," she said softly, and the panther obeyed, rolling onto its side. She rewarded it with a slice of apple, her expression softening into genuine affection.
That's when I lost it completely.
My footsteps were heavy as I crossed the garden. Every animal froze, then scrambled backward into the darkest corners, pressing themselves against the walls.
Lirael looked up sharply, her face paling. I stopped three meters away, my hands shoved deep in my pockets.
She could smile like that for these beasts. She could show trust to Damian. She could feel guilt for that stand-in. But for me—always defensiveness, always coldness, always fear. Even in the car, she'd turned away from my kiss, had bitten me like I was the enemy.
But she was mine. Only mine. Her smile, her gentleness, everything—it all belonged to me.
I stopped one meter away, my golden eyes burning with possessive fury. "Stand up, little moon. Don't make me say it twice."
She rose slowly, the berries falling from her hand. I could see her realizing she'd crossed a line.
I closed the distance in three strides and grabbed her arm, throwing her over my shoulder before she could react.
She started to struggle, and I brought my hand down hard on her ass—once, twice, a dozen times, each strike sharp and stinging.
She bit her lip, refusing to cry out, and that stubborn pride only made me angrier.
I carried her through the garden and into the manor, past wide-eyed staff, up the staircase, down the hall to the master suite. I kicked the door open and crossed to the four-poster bed, dumping her onto the dark silk sheets.
I caught her shoulder before she could rise, pressing her back down, and leaned over her, caging her in.
"You can't escape anymore," I said, my voice rough, my eyes locked on hers. "Starting today, every single day of your life happens under my watch. Every meal, every breath, every thought—I'll know about it. I'll own it."
She stared up at me, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide with fear and fury.
"You can hate me," I murmured, my voice dropping to something almost gentle. "You can refuse to speak to me. But you're mine, little moon. You'll always be mine."
The bed dipped as I leaned over her, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise. She'd tried to bolt the second I'd released her, survival instincts overriding whatever composure she'd maintained on the walk upstairs.
I caught her ankle before she made it two feet, dragging her back across the silk sheets with a force that made her gasp, and now she was pinned beneath me, her silver-grey eyes blazing with equal parts fury and fear.
"Let me go," she said, voice low and tight, each word clipped with barely restrained rage. Something dark coiled tighter in my chest at the sound—at the way she refused to beg even now, refused to give me the satisfaction of seeing her break.