The Game Beneath the Surface

Jake didn’t speak a word during the car ride home.

His hand rested possessively on Lydia’s thigh the entire time, but his eyes stared out the window—sharp, stormy, and full of something that made her skin crawl. Not rage exactly. Worse. Calculation.

When they pulled up to the mansion, he stepped out first, his grip on her arm firm as he helped her out. Lydia followed him through the grand entrance in silence, her heels echoing across the marble floor.

As soon as the doors shut, Jake turned on her.

“What did he say to you?”

Lydia folded her arms. “You already asked me that.”

“Tell me again.”

She met his gaze, forcing steel into her voice. “He told me I don’t belong in your world.”

Jake’s jaw clenched.

“And you agreed?”

“No.” Her voice trembled slightly. “But I didn’t disagree, either.”

For a long moment, Jake said nothing. The air between them thickened like a storm about to break. Then he took a slow step forward, lowering his voice to something softer—but more dangerous.

“You think I don’t know how he works? Dylan Black plays the long game. He’ll offer you freedom. Kindness. Pretend to be your savior. But the moment you’re his, he’ll lock the door just like I did.”

“At least he gave me a choice.”

Jake laughed bitterly. “You don’t know him, Lydia. He’s worse than me—he just wraps his chains in silk.”

His words should have frightened her. Maybe they did. But Lydia held her ground.

“Then why do you sound afraid of him?”

That stopped him.

Jake stepped in so close, her back hit the wall. His hands braced on either side of her head. His breath was warm against her cheek.

“I’m not afraid,” he murmured. “I just know what’s mine. And no one—not even Dylan—is going to take you from me.”

She looked away. “You talk like I’m property.”

“You are.”

She gasped, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“You signed a contract, Lydia. You entered this with your eyes open. I own every breath you take now. Every smile. Every sound. You gave that to me.”

“I did it to save my father, not to be a possession!”

His hand shot out, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. His voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper.

“You think Dylan Black can save you? He wants to win, Lydia. I want to keep. There’s a difference.”

She stared into his eyes—and for a moment, she saw something flicker beneath the fury. Fear.

Not fear of Dylan.

Fear of losing her.

Jake released her slowly, brushing his fingers down her jaw.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “Not unless you make me.”

And then he was gone, leaving Lydia against the wall, heart pounding, breath shallow, her world spinning.

That night, she didn’t sleep.

She lay in the enormous bed, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers curled around the white card Dylan had given her at the gala.

One call.

One number.

One escape.

But Jake’s words kept echoing in her head.

> “He wraps his chains in silk.”

> “I want to keep.”

> “I won’t hurt you… unless you make me.”

She turned the card over in her hand, again and again, her body caught between the heat of Jake’s obsession… and the cold promise of Dylan’s warning.

In this world, there were no heroes.

Only monsters.

And the one who wanted to protect her…

Might be worse than the one who already owned her.

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