You thought you were being careful. Every step had been silent, every breath measured, but the moment your fingers brushed the edge of the locked drawer, you knew you’d gone too far. The air behind you shifted heavy, suffocating and when you turned, he was already there.

Leaning against the doorway like he’d been watching you for longer than you realized, his dark eyes tracked your every movement. There was no anger in them, no outburst just a quiet, terrifying amusement that made your stomach twist.

“Curiosity, sweetheart?” His voice was smooth, almost gentle. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until your back hit the desk. His hand caught your wrist before you could move, warm and firm, pinning you in place.

His fingers slid from your wrist to your chin, tilting your face upward with unsettling tenderness. That touch should’ve been soft, but with him, nothing ever was. His gaze dark, endless, unblinking bored into yours, and a sharp smile curved his lips.

“You should’ve kept playing the game.” His thumb brushed over the hinge of your jaw, feather-light, mocking the intimacy of it. “Because now I have to fix this… and I won’t be gentle.”

The words landed like a noose tightening. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting across your lips, every inch of him radiating danger cloaked in calm.

“Run.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up shoving past him, bolting down the hall, heart slamming against your ribs. Behind you, he lowered himself lazily onto the couch, stretching out as though this were nothing but entertainment. He listened to your footsteps fade through the house, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he swept a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

“I’ll give you to the count of twenty to hide.” His voice carried easily through the walls, smooth and taunting, each word dripping with playfulness that was somehow worse than anger. “Then I come find you, darling. And I promise…” a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, dark and knowing, “…I won’t be kind.”