Page 186 of I See You

Sevyn smirked, leaning into the tension. “You’ll have to be more specific, sweetheart. A lot of men are obsessed with me.”

The slap came fast—so fast it snapped Sevyn’s head to the side beforeshecouldreact.Thestingbloomedacrosshercheek,the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. The ring on the woman's finger had cut her nose, and blood now dripped down her lips. Still, she turned back slowly, glaring through the pain.

"You got the wrong bitch," Sevyn muttered, her voice low but laced with venom. "And if you think feeding me is gonna break me— you more stupid than you look in that ski mask."

The woman’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “Say one more word, and I’ll feed you through a tube.”

Sevyn smirked through the pain in her face. “Try me.”

“Shut the fuck up and eat!” the woman snapped, yanking the sandwich from the tray and jamming it toward Sevyn’s mouth.

Sevyn fought back, twisting, kicking her chained legs, teeth clamped shut. But she was still weak—bruised from the crash, dizzy from the lingering concussion—and after a short struggle, she lost. The sandwich was shoved into her mouth in chunks, dry and tasteless, sticking to the roof of her mouth like glue.

“Damn. A bitch too good for mayo?” she mumbled between chews, half-choking, half-defiant.

The woman didn’t answer. She reached into her bag and pulled out a syringe.

“This ain't for your appetite, hoe. It’s so you don’t die. Yet.”

Sevyn’s eyes widened. “Don’t—wait, hold up—”

But it was too late.

The needle plunged into her thigh, sharp and cold, and within secondstheworldaroundherbegantotilt.Herlimbsfeltheavy, her eyelids impossible to hold open. Her vision blurred. Her breath caught.

The last thing she saw was the woman smirking through that mask as the world around her faded to black.

Once Sevyn was completely out cold, the woman picked up the half-eaten sandwich and headed toward the door. But just as she reached the threshold, a figure appeared—tall, tense, and radiating fury. The man’s eyes weren’t on her. They were locked on Sevyn’s unconscious body, specifically the blood trickling from her nose, staining her flawless skin.

“You put your fucking hands on her?” he asked, his voice low but laced with venom.

The masked woman froze, panic flashing in her eyes beneath the cloth. His grip was instant, steel-tight around her arm.

“She wasn’t listening,” she stammered. “I had to force her to eat. I didn’t know what else to—”

The grip tightened.

“I said,” he growled, each word like a blade, “don’t ever touch her again.”

The woman nodded frantically, fear pulsing through her veins. “I’m sorry, Braxton.”

He released her with a shove and she scurried out, the door slamming behind her.

Braxton stood still, breathing heavy, jaw clenched as security waited outside the door. The room fell into silence, save for Sevyn’s shallow breaths. He slowly walked over to the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. Her curls were splayed across the pillow, cheeks pale, and the blood under her nose stark against her glowing skin.

“If you had just listened to me…” he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her face, “you wouldn’t be in this position.”

His fingers trailed her cheek with a twisted tenderness, the kind that didn’t belong to love, but obsession. She was still beautiful. Even battered. Even unconscious. Maybe even more so.

He’d shown her the truth. He laid it all bare—who Hassan really was, what kind of monster he had blood on his hands from childhood. But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t run. Didn’t look back. That’s what drove Braxton mad. That’s what pushed him to this edge.

The Desmond case was supposed to make his career, but it had only fueled his downfall. Braxton had been watching Hassan Gaines for years, waiting for a chance to bring him down. When Carlos DeVille’s people came to him with Desmond’s stolen money, it was like fate handed him the win of a lifetime.

But fate also handed him Sevyn—only not the way he wanted.

He remembered the night clearly—Roman’s party. The way Sevyn laughed with Hassan, the glow in her face, the way Hassan had his hand on the small of her back like he already owned her. That was the moment the case turned personal. The career-making trial turned into revenge. And that revenge made him reckless.

The connections were easy to find. Hassan was tied to Desmond. Hassan was tied to Carlos. So Braxton did what he thought would make him unstoppable—told Carlos that the same man who killed his nephew was entangled in Desmond’s betrayal.

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