Scarlett ran.Her heart raced, pounding against her ribs, breath hitching as she forced her legs to pick up speed. The chilled night wind cut across her skin, but she hardly noticed. There was only Mason’s voice echoing in her mind."You’ll be back."No. She wouldn’t.She couldn’t.Scarlett’s hands trembled as she hit the edge of the estate, her pulse thrumming with adrenaline. Every instinct told her to continue running — to run as far away from Mason as she could get.And yet…She hesitated.She turned her head slightly back over her shoulder for a split second wondering — dreading — that he would be there. That he had already caught up with her.But there was nothing.No footsteps following. No hand extending to pull her back.Just silence.She didn’t know which of those scared her more.Scarlett swallowed hard and looked away, pushing herself forward. One step. Another. She just had to get out.But the instant she neared the gate—It wouldn’t open.Panic crept into her as she tugg

Scarlett’s pulse thundered in her ears as Mason’s words vibrated in the thick air surrounding them.“You are afraid of a world where I am not.”It should have been a lie. A delusion. Yet another of his manipulating techniques to strengthen his hold on her mind, on her choices, on her actual presence on this planet.And yet—she said nothing.Her silence was an admission.Mason saw it. Of course, he did. He always saw it.He took another step closer, a slow, knowing smirk forming at the edges of his lips.“Say it,” he whispered, his voice soft, but unyielding.Scarlett stiffened. “Say what?” she bit out, putting steel in her voice.He looked at her through cold, piercing eyes. “That you’re not going to want me gone.”Scarlett dug her fingernails into her palms, and gave herself this pain to focus on, to think through, to remember why she hated him.But Mason — Mason never gave her that opportunity.Always two steps ahead, always in her head, tugging on the fringes of her sanity until sh

Scarlett’s whole body went stiff, Mason’s words wrapping around her like a heavy blanket.You’ll still be mine.His voice rang in her mind, unyielding, mocking, like a dog collar cinching tighter on her throat. She should have put up a bigger fight, should have flat-out refused him. But there was something in how he spoke, in the certainty he bore, that made her waver.His breath ran against her skin, warm, steady, unyielding. His hand on her arm wasn’t forceful, but it carried an unmistakable mastery–a wordless instruction that she was right where he wished her.Scarlett choked down a gasp and bit her focus. “You treat me as if I don’t have a choice.”Mason’s lips quirked, his fingers digging into her wrist just enough so she knew what kind of message he was sending. “Don’t you?”Her heart pounded. His words weren’t a question. They were a challenge.Scarlett wrenched her arm free, her breath preventing her from taking a proper step back. “You don’t own me, Mason.”A slow, knowing sm

The space between them was thick with silence — suffocating. Scarlett’s heart raced, blood pounding at her ears as her breaths came unevenly, ragged. Mason’s words hung in the air around her, like a noose, only growing tighter with each passing second.She wanted to talk — to fight back. To push him away, to yell, to do anything other than stay frozen, pinned under the gravity of his existence. But she couldn’t.Because deep down, she knew he was right.And she found that terrifying.Mason saw it. Of course, he did. The flash of indecision in her eyes, the way her body tightened just a moment too late. It was a slow, satisfied smirk. “There it is,” he mumbled, voice heavy with delight. “That moment of doubt. That fear.”Scarlett’s jaw clenched. “I’m not afraid of you.”Mason chuckled, low and dark. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head and leaning in closer. “You should be.”His breath was hot on her skin and she hated how it sent shudders skidding down her spine.Scarlett swall

Scarlett was nearly in the middle of the great hall, her heart thumping against her ribs like a war drum. A palpable tension hung in the air, weighted with what was left unsaid. Mason was in his usual position—splayed across the wealth of a leather chair like a deity surveying his dominion. He drummed his fingers lazily on the armrest, never taking his eyes off of her.She wanted to turn her back and walk out of the room. But she couldn't. Not with everything on the line.Not with the truth ready to split her open from within.Mason sighed, cocking his head. “You’ve had me rather well boxed,” he speculated. “That is not your style, Scarlett.”Scarlett clenched her fists. “Maybe I finally learned that words don’t mean sh-t to peeps like you.”Mason grimaced, although his amusement didn’t touch his eyes. “People like me?”“You know exactly what I’m saying.”Mason leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “No, I don’t think I do. Why don’t you enlighten me?”Scarlett felt the heat