Page 125 of Captive Prize

“Cousin, let her go. She doesn’t belong here.” Gregor reached out to put a hand on my arm.

“Zoya is mine. She belongs wherever I am. I’ll handle it.” With that, I turned toward the door. Just before stepping out, I paused, planting a hand on the doorframe but not looking back.

“And Gregor—when this is done, you’re returning every penny.”

The secondI stepped into the room, she was already moving. Pacing the small space like a caged tigress, tension rolling off her in waves.

Every one of her movements was sharp, defensive. Her muscles were coiled tight. She was a predator backed into a corner.

Zoya wanted to fight.

She’d changed into something practical and perfect for travel. Black jeans. A fitted sweater. Her hair pulled back. She looked ready for anything. A fifteen-hour flight or a fight to the death.

Her gaze snapped to mine the second I entered.

“Don’t,” she said. Her tone was low—a warning and a plea wrapped into one.

Zoya was pretending she didn’t want to fight. But she was spoiling for one. She didn’t even want to win. She wanted the fight itself. To claw and rage and lose.

She expected me to force her hand. To make the choice for her so she wouldn’t have to.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t in the habit of giving in to anyone’s desires, especially not when it came to something like this.

I swung the door shut behind me slowly. Casually. I took my time, revealing no emotion. No tells.

“Don’t do what?”

Something flashed in her eyes too quickly for me to catch. But her fists clenched at her sides, her shoulders squared, and her chin lifted in defiance.

“Don’t try to stop me. Don’t pretend you care. And don’t you dare feed me some line about how I could stay if I wanted to.”

I stepped forward, using my size to take up space. Crowding her. Suffocating her. I didn’t stop until I was close enough to see the emotions she was so desperately trying to hide.

Or maybe she was trying to hide them from herself.

“I’m not here to stop you,” I said, my voice low and rough.

She stilled.

Froze. Like she couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth.

I shrugged, slipping my hands into my pockets. “I’m driving you to the hangar. Gregor arranged the flight. You’re on our jet within the hour.”

Her breath caught. For the first time, uncertainty crept across her face.

She wanted a fight. She expected it.

That was exactly why I wouldn’t give her one.

She was prepared for the version of me I’d shown her over and over. The relentless, unforgiving tyrant who refused to let her go.

So that was the last thing I was going to be.

Instead, I pretended I was ready to let her walk away.

To her credit, she recovered quickly. She masked her hesitation with biting defiance.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

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