Page 112 of Picture Perfect

"Am I?" My grip slackens, but my stare remains unyielding, locked on the fear and confusion warring in her green depths. "I just need answers, Snowflake. Real answers."

She swallows hard, and the pulse at her throat flutters like a caged bird. "I've told you everything. There's nothing more to say."

"Nothing?" My voice climbs, sharp and jagged as broken glass. "Your door locks from the outside, Snowflake. That's not 'nothing.' How often does he come here? What does he do?" Each question is a hammer blow, seeking to shatter the walls she's built around herself.

"Dre, stop!" Her plea falls on deaf ears. My mind is a hurricane of dark thoughts, each one crashing into the next, demanding escape.

"Does he touch you?" The words rip from my throat, a savage growl that fills the room with its intensity. The air between us crackles, charged with my fraying composure.

"Please...you have to understand." She’s looking anywhere but at me now, her gaze darting around the room as if the answers might be written on the walls.

"Understand what? That you're being hurt and I can't do anything about it?" I release her face, pacing the small space like a predator denied its prey. "Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because there's nothing you can do!" She's shouting now, desperation giving her strength. "There's nothing anyone can do!"

"Like hell there isn't." My fists clench at my sides, knuckles white with the effort to keep from smashing something, anything, to drive away this impotence that claws at my insides.

"Dre," Chess says quietly, caution laced in his tone. He knows better than to step between us when I'm like this, but he's always been braver than most.

"Back off, Chess," I warn without looking at him. My focus is on Snowflake, on the secrets she's keeping and the pain they're causing. "This is between me and her."

"Actually," she cuts in, her voice steadier now, "it's between me and them. And you can't fight my battles for me."

"Watch me," I retort, a defiant promise. But deep down, the seed of doubt plants itself—am I fighting for her, or am I fighting for the control I so desperately crave?

"Wh-why do you even care?" Snowflake's voice cracks, and I can almost taste the fear mingling with defiance in her tone. Her eyes flicker away from mine, betraying her attempt to hide something deeper.

"Why? You want to know why?" I shoot back, my own voice a low growl as I catch the evasion dancing behind her pupils.

She flinches, but I press on, my resolve hardening like ice under a frigid wind. "I'll camp right here on this floor," I vow, the words pouring out of me, fierce and unyielding. "Every damn night, if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

Her breath hitches, and she swallows hard, clearly unnerved by the intensity of my declaration. The room is thick with unsaid truths and my own spiraling thoughts.

"Safe? From what, Dre?" Her challenge is weak, but it's there, pushing against the force of my will.

"From anyone who thinks they can hurt you," I insist, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "From him."

For a heartbeat, we're suspended in the tension of our shared space, her vulnerability and my desperation tangibly intertwined.

"Why?" she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching mine for an answer she isn't sure she wants. "Why do you care?"

The question triggers something primal within me. Suddenly, I'm moving, until I'm close enough to feel her uneven breaths. My hands reach up, fingers brushing against her cheeks, leaving no space between us.

"Because I laid claim, Snowflake. You're mine." The words are a raw, possessive growl that I feel in every fiber of my being.

"I'm no one's," she counters, her voice laced with a quiet strength that belies her fragile appearance.

Her resistance stokes the fire in my chest, burning through whatever restraint I had left. The storm inside me rages, fueled by her defiance and the undeniable truth that I cannot let her go, not now, not ever.

"Wrong," I say, the word slicing through the charged air between us. "You're mine, and I'll fight the whole damn world to prove it."

Chess watches silently. He doesn't intervene, knowing full well that when it comes to Snowflake, there's no calming the tempest that she stirs within me.

The heat of her defiance still simmers in the air when my hand finds its way to her throat, not squeezing, just there, a silent assertion of the claim I've staked. Her pulse flutters under my fingers, a trapped bird's heart, and her eyes—they light up with an inferno that could scorch me to ashes. She likes this. I fucking know she does. She can't hide that from me.

"I'm not going to touch you," I murmur, watching her closely. "Not tonight. But, I'm not leaving either." My voice is low, yet it fills the room, heavy with the promise of proximity without contact. "Go to bed, Snowflake. We're staying right here."

She shakes her head ever so slightly, the movement brushing her skin against my hand. "He won't come back. Not tonight," she whispers, her gaze locked onto mine, trying to convince me, to chase away the shadows that linger.

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