HER PRISONER

(Cassian's POV)

The door opened.

And there she stood.

Ziva.

No, not Ziva as the world saw her. Not the girl caught in a system of charity and sympathy. No. This was her—the girl who had haunted the edges of my dreams, the silhouette I had been chasing for years without even knowing her name.

She stepped into the study like she didn't belong. She didn't bow. She didn't speak. She just stood there with her hands clenched at her sides, trying to be brave. I could smell the fear under her perfume—subtle, warm, real.

I didn't say a word. I didn't move.

She looked at me. Her eyes widened slightly—just slightly—as if a memory tried to claw its way out of some locked place in her mind. But it didn't come. She didn't remember me.

Of course she didn't.

The weight in my chest tightened.

I took a step forward. She didn't flinch.

Another step. And another.

Her lips parted, uncertain, her voice barely a breath. "Are you Mr. Drevault?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

Because in that moment, the silence between us roared louder than words. My blood felt like it was vibrating. My control—thin as glass—cracked.

I reached her in three strides.

I didn't give her a warning.

I just grabbed her.

And I kissed her.

Hard. Possessive. Desperate.

My hand was at the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist like I needed to keep her from vanishing. She gasped against me—shocked, frozen—but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The taste of her undid something buried inside me. Her lips trembled beneath mine like a prayer. For a moment, just a moment, I felt her lean into it. Into me.

Then she pulled back.

Her eyes were wide. Scared.

I had scared her.

Her hand reached up to touch her lips, as if trying to erase the moment.

I blinked. The haze broke.

I stepped back like I'd been burned.

What have I done?

"Go," I rasped. My voice was low, cracked like thunder. "Get out."

She didn't move.

"Now."

That made her stumble, her fingers brushing the door handle before she fled—vanishing like a whisper into the hall.

Silence returned.

But my mind was chaos.

I had broken the Drevault code. The one law that ran deeper than blood. You do not harm the one fate ties you to. Not with fear. Not with force. Not even with a word.

My father's voice echoed in my skull.

"A real Drevault bleeds for his mistake. A real man does not take what is not freely given. You take love, you earn ruin."

And now I had to pay.

Because I had scared my little rabbit.

Because I touched her too soon.

Because my madness was louder than my honor.

I walked to the far wall, unbuttoning my cuffs, rolling up the sleeve slowly, methodically. The fire poker sat against the marble hearth, blackened at the tip.

I didn't hesitate.

I pressed it to my forearm.

Pain exploded, white and bright.

But it was the kind of pain that made sense.

The kind I was raised to understand.

The kind that whispered, now you're worthy of regret.

I dropped the poker and sank into the shadows of the room, the scent of scorched flesh curling into the silence.

I had kissed her.

I had broken the rule.

And now… I had to become the monster she feared—

Until I could become the man she could one day remember.

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