"The rules changed tonight, Atara," he says, his voice dropping into that dark register that makes my skin prickle. "They’re my rules now. You’re in my world."
He holds my eyes until I'm the one who looks away first, frustration burning hot in my chest. I want to throw something at his head to wipe that stoic look off his face. "I deeply, genuinely resent you right now."
"Good," he mutters, turning back to his tablet. "Resentment keeps you sharp."
I huff and stomp back to my seat. I look over at Maeve. She’s fallen asleep again, her head tilted against the window, the rabbit tucked under her chin. She looks so small. So innocent. She doesn't know her dad is a terrifyingly dangerous man. She doesn't know she’s being hunted.
My fury cools, replaced by a heavy, undeniable truth. I am caught in the middle of something lethal.
I reach into my purse, thankful that in the middle of all the craziness, Lorcan had thought about me. My fingers find the familiar weight of my phone. If I can just get a signal when we approach land... text Tania, or find a way to alert someone outside his circle.
I pull it out, shielding it with my body.
"What are you doing?"
I jump, nearly dropping the phone. Lorcan is standing over me. I didn't even hear him move. He’s like a shadow that just materialized out of the air.
"Nothing," I say, shoving the phone behind my back. "Just checking the time."
"Give it to me."
"No. It’s my property."
He doesn't argue. He just reaches out and snatches it from my hand. He’s too fast, his grip completely unyielding.
"Hey! Give that back!"
He looks at the screen, then down at me. The flicker of anger in his jaw is cold.
"You were going to call for help," he says. It isn't a question.
"Yes! Because I’m being dragged across the ocean against my will!" I say, standing up to face him, my head barely reaching his chest. "I was going to tell someone where I am!"
"And Silas would have intercepted the signal," Lorcan says, his voice rising, sounding like an oncoming avalanche. "He has people who do nothing but monitor the digital footprint of everyone in my orbit. You would have given him a direct GPS coordinate to this plane.”
"I didn't know—"
"You'd have handed him my daughter." His eyes cut, just once, to the small sleeping shape of his daughter across the aisle.
The argument dies in my throat. The realization hits me hard, and then I see it—the slight, controlled tremor in his hands that he’s trying to hide. He isn't just angry; he’s fiercely protective.
"Your old life is on pause, Atara." He raises his hand and slams the phone onto the edge of the mahogany table.
CRACK.
The screen shatters. He does it again, with a rhythmic, terrifying force, until the phone is just a twisted wreck of metal and glass. He drops the remains onto the carpet at my feet.
I stare at the ruins of my phone. My photos, my contacts, my connection to safety—all gone. The tears are back, hot and stinging, born from pure, unadulterated fear. "You didn't have to do that."
"I told you," Lorcan says, his breathing heavy. He’s standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. "I’m keeping you alive. Accept the reality."
"I hate this reality," I whisper, my fists clenching as I hit his shoulder in sheer frustration. He doesn't even flinch. I strike his chest, a sob escaping me. "I hate you for dragging me into this."
He catches my wrists. He pins them together in one hand, pulling them up, pressing me back against the seat. His body is a heavy, solid barrier, trapping me completely.
"Hate me all you want, Atara," he growls, his face inches from mine, his gray eyes burning. "But you’re staying. You’re under my protection, whether you like it or not."
My heart hammers wildly against my ribs, a chaotic mix of fury, fear, and a strange, hyper-aware electricity that sparks whenever he's this close. His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second, dark and heavy, before he pulls back.
