Chapter 212

Chapter 212
~Marlowe~

Brian watched me too closely. That was the first thing I fully understood after the panic settled enough for my brain to start functioning again. 

Every movement I made, every shift of my eyes around the room, every breath that came too fast, he tracked all of it with the same unsettling focus somebody might use trying to calm a wounded animal before it bolted. It made my skin crawl.

He stood near the steel door now, one shoulder resting lightly against the wall while the overhead light cast harsh shadows across his face. Without his usual soft expressions and polite smiles, he looked different somehow. Harder around the edges. More dangerous.

“You should eat something,” he stated quietly as he slid a bottle of water across the table toward me.

The plastic scraped loudly against the metal surface before stopping halfway between us. I didn’t touch it.

Brian noticed immediately. “I’m not drugging the water,” he muttered, irritation flickering briefly through his voice.

“That’s comforting coming from the guy who kidnapped me,” I shot back while keeping my spine pressed firmly against the wall behind me.

His jaw tightened slightly at the word again. Kidnapped, he hated that word.

“This situation is temporary,” he replied carefully, like he’d rehearsed the sentence beforehand. “Once things settle down, you’ll understand why this had to happen.”

My stomach rolled harder at that because men like Brian always believed time justified damage.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” I muttered.

“You stopped deciding clearly the second Torin got his hands on you.”

The words landed hard enough my pulse spiked instantly. Not because they hurt, because of how calmly he said them. As if this entire thing made perfect sense inside his head.

Brian pushed away from the wall slowly before crossing toward the table, movements careful, measured, controlled in a way that immediately put me more on edge. He sat down across from me afterward, forearms resting loosely against his knees while his eyes stayed fixed on my face.

“You were changing,” he stated quietly. “I watched it happen.”

I remained quiet, partly because I didn’t trust myself not to scream at him. Partly because I needed him talking.

Brian exhaled slowly before continuing. “You stopped being you.”

“You think this fixes that?” I questioned finally, my voice rough with disbelief.

His expression softened slightly then, which somehow made everything worse.

“I think you were drowning,” he replied quietly. “And nobody else was willing to pull you out.”

Jesus Christ. The delusion sitting inside this man scared me more than violence would have, because Brian genuinely believed he was helping me.

“You don’t love me,” I whispered while my fingers curled tighter against my knees. “You love control.”

Something flickered across his face immediately. Hurt maybe. Anger buried under restraint.

“That’s not fair,” he muttered.

A sharp laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Fair?” I repeated while staring at him incredulously. “Brian, you drugged me and locked me in a concrete room.”

His jaw tightened harder. “Because you wouldn’t have come willingly.”

“There it is,” I snapped, sitting forward suddenly despite the dizziness still lingering in my system. “You think what I want doesn’t matter if you’ve convinced yourself you know better.”

Brian looked away first, one hand dragging slowly across his mouth while tension pulled visibly through his shoulders. For the first time since I woke up, he actually looked uncertain.

Good, maybe some part of him still understood this was wrong. Then he looked back at me, and ruined that hope instantly.

“He was going to destroy you eventually,” Brian muttered quietly. “You just couldn’t see it yet.”

No. I saw it. I saw every dangerous, violent, morally broken piece of Torin clearly, and I still chose him. That was what Brian couldn’t accept. My choice.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me,” I replied softly.

Brian’s eyes hardened slightly then, frustration finally slipping through the calm mask he kept trying to wear. “You think he loves you?” he questioned while standing abruptly from the chair. “Men like Torin don’t love people, Marlowe. They consume them.”

My pulse jumped harder while anger started burning through the fear sitting in my chest. “And men like you,” I shot back while rising shakily to my feet, “pretend obsession is protection.”

Brian went completely still, his expression flattening into something colder, quieter, more dangerous.

For one long second, neither of us moved, then suddenly his gaze dropped toward my feet.

Too late, I realized why, but I lunged toward the chair anyway.

Brian moved faster. His hand caught my wrist hard before I could grab the metal leg I’d been aiming for, momentum slamming me sideways while the chair crashed loudly against the concrete floor.

“Don’t,” he snapped, gripping tighter.

I fought him instantly. Kneed. Twisted. Clawed at his arm while fury and panic exploded together inside my chest hard enough to blind me for a second.

“Get the hell off me!” I screamed.

Brian cursed as he shoved me backward before I could land the knee properly, my body hitting the wall hard enough pain shot across my shoulder instantly. The room fell silent except for both of us breathing too hard.

Brian stared at me wide-eyed afterward, almost shocked I’d fought him that violently.

What the hell did he expect?

Tears burned hot behind my eyes, but rage burned hotter. “You don’t own me,” I whispered shakily while pressing myself back against the wall again. “You never will.”

Brian’s chest rose and fell heavily for another second before he looked away first, something ugly and conflicted moving across his face. Then quietly, almost to himself: “I’m trying to save your life.”

No. He was trying to build a version of reality where I belonged to him, and somehow that terrified me more than if he’d simply admitted he wanted revenge.