Page 24 of Owned In Misty Mountain

He says it casually.

Like it’s already decided.

Like he just told me the weather.

I set my fork down slowly. “I didn’t agree to that.”

He frowns. “You need to be here. I’ve got the space. It’s safer. Easier.”

“And I don’t get a say?”

He stands. Not angry. Just firm.

“You’re mine, Shanay. This is me taking care of you.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

That does it.

I stand too—chair scraping back, voice rising.

“I’m not one of your fixer ups, Mike Costa. And I’m sure as hell not a piece of furniture you can move as you want.”

“You’re not,” he growls. “You’re mine.”

“You keep saying that like it explains everything.”

“Because it does.”

He’s angry now. Face hard. Eyes wild.

“I would burn this whole fucking town down to keep you safe,” he snaps. “The whole world. You think this is about control? This is about me not letting anything near you. Ever.”

“And what about what I want?”

His jaw flexes. “What do you want?”

“I want to be part of the decision-making!” I shout. “I want to feel like I’m choosing this—not being claimed like I’m property!”

Silence.

Thick and awful.

He doesn’t move.

I grab my coat. My phone. My keys.

He doesn’t stop me.

But when I glance back, he’s staring at the table like I betrayed him.

And I don’t know if I want to cry or turn around or run straight into his arms.

So I do the only thing I can.

I leave.

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