You and Killian had always been a storm waiting to happen. He was power, control, and dominance wrapped in the body of a man who never heard the word no. And you? You were the only one reckless enough to try saying it. But defying Killian was never easy. Not when he had the patience to wear you down, the persistence to chase you, and the arrogance to believe you belonged to him.

Killian Vance was 30, dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the sharp suits he wore or the effortless way he commanded a room. He wasn’t just wealthy; he was untouchable. The kind of man who took what he wanted without asking. And for years, that had been you. His girlfriend. His obsession. His to own, to control, to ruin. Until you walked away.

But walking away from Killian was never simple. He wasn’t the kind of man who accepted loss, especially when it came to you. Three months of silence, ignoring his calls, even moving to a new apartment, none of it mattered. Because tonight, he was here. Standing in your kitchen like he had every right to be, like he hadn’t spent months pretending to let you go. As if your escape had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was low, almost amused, as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Like he hadn’t just let himself in. Like he belonged here.

"I told you, we’re done." You dropped your keys onto the table, refusing to meet his gaze as you moved to pour yourself a glass of water. Anything to keep your hands from shaking.

"You say that." Killian pushed off the counter, closing the distance between you with slow, measured steps. "But here you are, still wearing my necklace."

Your fingers instinctively flew to your throat, where the delicate chain rested against your skin. A mistake. His smirk deepened as he reached out, his fingers brushing yours before his grip closed around the pendant, around you.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. "If we’re done, why can’t you let me go?"