Page 20 of Property of Chux

She flinches slightly, just barely, but I don’t miss it. "He—" she hesitates, then shakes her head. "He wouldn’t do that to me."

I cock my head. "You sure about that?"

Her lips press together, uncertainty flickering behind her eyes. She’s questioning it now. She needs to question a lot of things.

Because the reality?

She doesn’t know what the hell her grandfather has done for us, what lines he’s crossed, what blood he’s had to ignore.

She’s been living in a pretty little fantasy, tucked away in her bakery, oblivious to the world that keeps her doors open.

"I don’t know what’s going on," she says, her voice a little weaker now. "But I—I swear, I won’t say anything. I’ll forget all of this. I’ll go about my life. You won’t have to worry about me."

Oh, I’m not worried about her. Never have been. She’s a quiet little mouse. She understands family and loyalty. She won’t be sharing anything that I don’t doubt. I just stare at her, saying nothing.

Because she doesn’t get it yet. She thinks this is something she can walk away from. Something she can pretend never happened.

She sees my silence, sees the way I don’t nod, don’t agree, and that panic starts creeping back in.

Her hands curl tighter in her lap, and then—she swallows hard and makes another offer.

"I can move," she blurts out, her voice shaky. "I can leave town. Disappear. You’ll never have to see me again."

I can’t help it.

I let the smile play on my lips, slow and dangerous.

Then I lean in, just enough to make sure she feels the heat of me, my voice a low, quiet threat that sends a visible shiver down her spine.

"Sweetheart," I murmur, watching her breath hitch, "the only way you disappear from my view ever again is when one of the two of us ain’t breathing anymore."

Her whole body goes still. Her throat works like she’s trying to swallow a scream or fight the urge to puke.

And I just sit back, satisfied watching as the realization sinks in.

She’s not leaving here unchanged.

She’s not walking away.

And no matter how much she hates it…

She belongs to me now.

In time, she’ll learn to love it and me.

This I have no doubt.

CHAPTER 8

ALAINA

Anxiety isn’t my thing.Kelly, bless her, she has struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. Crippling her sometimes. The elephant sitting on her chest, a weight so heavy it takes her breath away. I have always worried over her when the panic wins. She hates it because she feels out of control. While I can understand, from an outsider point of view, it isn’t something I’ve experienced first-hand.

What I feel right now, I imagine this is similar to what she experiences.

Fear is a heavy thing. It sits in my stomach like lead, pressing down on my chest, wrapping around my ribs until it’s hard to breathe. But I’m not stupid.

I know when I’m outmatched, and Chux, whoever he is? He’s not just dangerous—he’s in complete control of this situation.

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