Page 22 of Owned By the Hvrok

Still no answer.

The air shifted as he closed the final distance. He stopped just short of her—close enough for her to feel the quiet hum of his presence, close enough to drown in it.

Her entire body shook. Adrenaline surged. Her throat ached from holding back the scream rising inside her.

She glared at him. Defiant. Unmoving. “You don’t get to have all the power here.”

But she knew—felt—how precarious that claim was.

Because she hadn’t run. She hadn’t fought. And the collar still sat warm and snug against her throat, betraying her.

He hadn’t touched her.

He hadn’t forced her.

And somehow, that made it worse.

He was waiting.

Not for permission.

For her to break.

Her eyes burned. Her body ached. And still, she stood there, clothed, furious, exposed in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

She was still herself.

But that self was fraying.

And he knew it.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t evenbreathe, as far as she could tell.

He just stood there, massive and silent, like a black statue dropped from some alien god’s war altar.

Sylvia’s chest heaved. Her throat burned. The words she’d hurled at him only moments ago still echoed in her ears—useless, desperate noise. None of it had made a dent in him.

Not even a twitch.

He watched her, unreadable, faceless behind that obsidian armor and full-face helm. She couldn’t see his eyes. Couldn’t see anything human, anything soft. Just the brutal geometry of his body, the impossible bulk of him, the armored plates that shimmered faintly under the too-bright lights.

She wanted him todo something. To saysomething. Even a command would be better than this awful, consumingsilence.

But he didn’t.

He just waited.

And somehow, that was worse.

Sylvia clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Her whole body trembled with adrenaline, with rage, with raw, chaotic sorrow. She wanted to scream again, to shove him, to claw at that armor until she saw something real underneath.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

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