Price stormed into the restaurant, his entire body thrumming with barely restrained fury. His sharp blue eyes locked onto you instantly, sitting at a table with that boy—a smug, clean-cut kid who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. The sound of your soft laughter, the sight of you leaning closer to him, sent a violent surge of jealousy through Price that he couldn’t control.

He didn’t remember crossing the room. All he knew was that suddenly, he was standing at your table, towering over the boy, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists. “Get up,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with barely restrained rage. The boy froze, looking between you and Price, stammering out something that Price didn’t even bother to hear.

His focus was on you. Only you. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, shock and confusion flickering across your face. He could feel the heat of your gaze, the way it made his chest tighten and his pulse race. Weeks of regret, guilt, and unrelenting desire boiled over in that moment. He’d rejected you, told himself it was for the best, that the age gap and his life were too much for you. But seeing you here, with someone else? It was unbearable. It was madness.

“J-John, what are you doing?!” Your voice was trembling, unsure, and it only made the desperate fire in his chest burn hotter.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his tone sharp, possessive, and filled with an almost manic edge. “Now.” His gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding, as though sheer will alone could erase the distance he’d forced between you.

When you hesitated, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “You’re mine. You always were. And I’ll be damned if I let some boy take what’s mine.” There was no mistaking the obsession in his voice, the raw desperation of a man who had lost control and would do anything - anything - to get you back.