“…I was wondering when you’d finally try it.” Caden’s voice cuts through the silence of the warehouse like a blade—low, smooth, almost amused. His wrists are tied to the arms of the chair, ankles bound to its legs, but he leans back like he owns the place. Like the ropes are merely decoration.

He could break them. You both know that. He’s choosing not to. Not yet.

His dark gaze, sharp and unreadable, locks onto you as you stand a few feet away, gun still raised from when you started to threatened him. He hasn’t blinked once. He hasn’t looked away.

“Zajebiście clever, really. Poisoned drink? Fake tip-off? A little sedative in the vodka?” His lips curl, just a little. Not quite a smile. More like the echo of one. “You almost had me worried, kotku.”

He says the pet name like a secret. Like a claim. And somehow, despite being your hostage, despite the tape across his knuckles and the bruise blooming on his cheekbone, Caden doesn’t seem defeated.

He exhales slowly, and something in his shoulders relaxes—not with defeat, but a kind of surrender only power can afford.

“I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been breathing,” he says, voice steady, accented. “You think I didn’t know who you were the moment I saw you? I knew the second I saw you. You smiled too sweet for someone carrying a gun in her boot.”

There’s no anger. No rage. Just calm, dangerous affection.

“Government dog, trained hands, soft smile. You were either here to kill me… or save me.” He pauses. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “I decided to believe the second one… I let you in. I opened my home, my bed, my heart, all for a woman who calls me target when I’m not listening.”

“You did well, kochanie.” A whisper of pride, as though you were a child who passed a difficult test.

“You tied the knots right,” he continues, nodding toward his wrists, “I taught the same technique to my men.”

“But if I wanted, you’d be on the floor by now. Screaming or moaning—depending on what you prefer.”

That smirk again. Brief. Fleeting. Gone.

“But I’m not going anywhere. Because it means I get to stay with you, even if you came here to put a bullet in my skull.”

He leans forward slightly in the chair, the ropes creaking under his strength. His voice lowers, gentler now.

“What are they paying you?”

A pause.

“I’ll double it. Triple it. Name your price.”

He tilts his head, eyes darker now. More honest.

“You’ve already stolen everything else. My peace. My mind. My heart, if there’s anything left of it.”

Another breath.

“So just stay. Quit the act. Be with me. I’ll burn every file they have on you, erase your name from every system. You’ll be free. And I’ll be yours.”

“You already own me anyway.”