Page 58 of Sin Bin Bully

She backs away, her hands balled into fists. "This isn't where I belong, Sam. This isn't healthy, it isn't right!"

"I don't give a fuck about right," I snap. "I care about keeping you safe. About keeping you mine."

Kim's back hits the wall. She's cornered now, nowhere to run. "I'm not yours," she hisses. "I never was."

I slam my palms against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. "You are. You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. And you always will be."

Her chest heaves, her breath coming in quick gasps. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the way she fights against the pull between us.

"This ends now," I say, my voice low and final. "You're staying here, where you're safe. Where you belong."

Before she can argue, I step back and stride to the door. Kim lunges forward, but I'm faster. I slam the door shut and turn the key, locking her inside.

"Sam!" She pounds on the door. "Let me out, you bastard!"

I lean my forehead against the cool wood, my heart racing. "It's for your own good, little dancer," I murmur. "You'll see."

Her muffled curses follow me down the hallway, but I don't look back. I've made my choice. She's mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. To keep her here. With me.

26

KIM

Kim

Islam the door behind me, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. The lock clicks, sealing me in this gilded cage. My legs give out, and I slide down the smooth wood, landing hard on the plush carpet.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, banging my head against the door with each word. The pain is dull compared to the ache in my chest.

I wrap my arms around my knees, hugging them close. How could I have been so naive? So... desperate? The memory of Sam's touch burns on my skin, and I scrub at my arms, trying to erase it.

"You really thought he cared about you?" I scoff at myself, my voice echoing in the empty room. "Wake up, Kim. You're just another toy to him."

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I won't cry. Not for him. Not for this mess I've made of my life.

I stand up, pacing the room like a caged animal. Each step on the expensive rug reminds me of where I am, who I'm with. The opulence that once seemed magical now feels suffocating.

"You slept with your kidnapper," I say out loud, tasting the bitterness of the words. "What kind of fucked up Stockholm Syndrome is this?"

My reflection catches my eye in the ornate mirror across the room. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Her eyes are wild, her hair a mess. She looks lost, broken.

"Is this who you want to be?" I ask my reflection. "Some rich asshole's plaything?"

The silence that follows is deafening. I turn away, unable to face myself any longer.

The nights I've spent with Sam, the way he made me feel so perfect, so special, it all plays out in my mind. My stomach churns. How could something that felt so right in the moment now feel so devastatingly wrong?

"You're smarter than this," I whisper, clenching my fists. "You're stronger than this."

But am I? If I were truly strong, would I be here at all? Would I have let myself fall for Sam's act?

The walls seem to close in around me, a physical manifestation of the trap I've willingly walked into. I need to get out. I need to breathe. But there's nowhere to go.

I'm trapped. By Sam. By my own foolish heart. By the circumstances that led me here in the first place.

"What now, Kim?" I ask the empty room. "What the hell do you do now?"

I sink onto the edge of the bed, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Alexi's words echo in my head, cutting through the fog of infatuation I've been living in.

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