Page 27 of The Vow Thief
He stood completely still, the kind of stance that told you his stillness was intentional. His presence didn’t fill the hallway; it commanded it. Nothing else moved while he was watching.
He was beautiful. Not in a polished, magazine-cover way. His beauty was dangerous, structured, built for something more important than admiration. One must first respect this man, then maybe worship him.
His face was all clean lines and unapologetic construction, like whoever had made him hadn’t cared about warmth. His jaw carried tension as if he always had something more important to do, and whatever had his current attention was slowing him down.
His mouth was a closed gate. His features were so precise they looked curated, not born.
If someone had printed him in a manual, it would have been under“deterrent.”
But his eyes were the problem.
They didn’t match the uniform. They didn’t scan. They settled. They measured. There was no curiosity in them, no flicker of desire or anger or amusement. Only assessment. He looked at me the way a surgeon might look at a chart, clinical.
And yet, somehow, I was sure he was undressing me with those eyes. All men did; he wouldn’t be any different.
“Back against the wall,” he said.
I smiled wider.“Good morning to you, too.”
“Back. Against. The wall.”
His voice didn’t change, but it pressed harder. I felt it in my spine before.
I stayed seated for another beat.“You’re very direct.”
“If you want this to stay simple, move. Otherwise, I’ll call in two others and let them do it for you.”
There wasn’t even a hint of doubt in his voice. I could have pushed him. I was good at pushing. But he wouldn’t take the bait. He’d skip the part where I got to play and go straight to consequences.
I sighed and slid backward until my shoulders met the wall. The cot creaked softly beneath me. His gaze didn’t drop to the skin I had shown him. It stayed fixed on my face like he was reading something written there that I hadn’t even thought of yet.
“You’ve been trying to get my attention,” he said.“That kind of behavior usually ends with isolation. Or worse.”
I laughed softly.“I’m already in isolation.”
“Yes. You are.” He didn’t blink.“And if you think I’m here to flirt, or play, or pretend I’m interested in your games, you’re wrong.”
Oof. He had already decided what I was and where I belonged. Oh boy, this would be a tough nut to crack.
“I would talk to a stuffed bunny at this point, Officer. I haven't been out of this cell in weeks. I barely know what day it was. May I have some yard time or library time or any time outside of these walls?”
He didn’t move.“Are you done breaking rules?”
“Most men don't mind when I break a few rules.”
“Most men aren't in charge of your next privilege review.”
I tilted my head. I wanted to see if there was anything behind his eyes that wasn’t work.
“I am willing to work for my privileges.”
The silence stretched too long. I loved the buzz of the lights in that moment. The way it wrapped around him and pulled his attention to where they hung, then his eyes moved to the crack in the ceiling.
He waited a second longer, then turned and walked away. Just left.
Still, I smiled. Now I knew he wasn’t there to just supervise. He was there to manage. To contain. To control.
And men like that always had something to hide.
