Page 61 of Painter's Obsession

“Why?” he finally asks, his voice sharper now, cutting through the silence.

I sigh, the sound exaggerated, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because,” I say, leaning closer, “what’s the fun in breaking you if you’re dead? Plus, you know the real me, and maybe I want some company. Either way, you owe me.”

His jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring as he tugs at the cuff. The sound of metal against metal grates in the quiet room.

“I’ll be dead either way,” he mutters, his voice low but charged with frustration. “So why even bother?”

I smile at that, slow and deliberate, letting the silence stretch between us.

“Enough,” I say, my tone dropping, sharp and cold. “I don’t want you dead. Not yet, at least. I think you and I can have some fun. I can show you how to play in the dark without being afraid of the monsters.”

Byron scoffs, the sound harsh and bitter. “What the fuck are you babbling about? Play in the dark… monsters. I’m not afraid of you.”

My smile widens. Of course, he isn’t. That’s what makes him so delightful.

“I know,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost tender. “And that’s why I want to keep you around.”

His gaze sharpens, his breathing unsteady. There’s anger there, sure, but beneath it, something else lingers—something I can’t quite place.

“How about we go back to sleep,” I say, leaning back slightly, “and I’ll answer all your questions in the morning?”

He doesn’t respond right away. The bed shifts as he lies back down, the cuff clinking softly against the frame. His body remains tense, his muscles coiled, like he’s ready to spring at any moment.

“She’s safe,” I add, my voice low, almost a whisper. “Go to bed.”

I see the change immediately. His body softens, the tension bleeding out of him as the confirmation of Gabriela’s safety sinks in.

But I don’t turn my back on him.

Instead, I inch closer, my body pressing against his. The heat of his fevered skin seeps into mine, almost unbearable, but I don’t pull away. My arm wraps around his waist, and he freezes beneath me, his breathing shallow.

Not that I’m into cuddling.

This is practical. If he tries anything—if he even thinks about moving—I’ll feel it. You can never be too careful.

But as his warmth sinks into me, I let my eyes close, a smirk curling on my lips.

“Goodnight, Thorn,” I whisper, my voice soft and mocking, as the darkness swallows us both.

Chapter Thirty Four

Byron

Ican’t sleep. Not with the asshole hugging me like we’re lovers.

His body is flush against mine, his arm heavy around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. His cock presses into my side, and I clench my jaw, trying to ignore the weight of him. At least my own ache—raw and nagging—has dulled to discomfort. Small mercies.

The darkness in the room is oppressive, the kind that swallows you whole. Every sound is sharper, louder—the faint hum of the IV, the rustle of sheets, the steady rhythm of his soft snores.

I need to get out of here. Find Gabriela. Warn her.

But I’m fucking weak. My body feels like lead, and even if I managed to make it to my truck, I wouldn’t get far.

Ren’s snores catch my attention. His face is too relaxed, too… beautiful for someone so vile. A killer. A rapist.

I tug at the cuff binding my wrist to the bed frame, the metal biting into my skin. As if by instinct, his arm tightens aroundmy waist, pulling me closer. His cock presses harder against my side, and I shove him with my free hand.

“Too fucking close,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

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