I didn't have time to step back. He pushed me against the wall, his palms flat against the drywall on either side of my head, caging me there. The books in my arms pressed hard against my chest. Then his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the books tumbled to the floor with a sound like wings breaking.

We were so close that even air couldn't escape between us.

Then he kissed me.

Not soft. Not gentle. Not the tentative question from last night. His teeth caught my lower lip and bit down — hard enough to make me gasp, hard enough to sting, hard enough that I tasted copper. He sucked on the wound, his tongue hot against the broken skin, making my lips swollen and tender, marking me with his teeth where Sahil's flowers couldn't reach.

His breath came heavy and ragged against my neck. Then he bit me there too — not light, not teasing. Deep. Sharp. A brand seared into the tender skin just above my collarbone. I cried out, my hands flying to his shoulders, my fingers digging into wet skin. The pain was bright and sudden and somehow — impossibly — it made my knees weak.

He pulled back, just enough to turn me around.

His chin rested on my shoulder, his damp chest pressed against my back, his arms caging me in as we faced the mirror together. His eyes met mine in the reflection — dark, triumphant, terrifyingly possessive. The mark on my neck was already blooming, vivid and purple against my pale skin. Claiming. Unmistakable. Impossible to hide.

"You see this?" His voice was a whisper against my ear, his finger tracing the bruise he had made. "Don't cover it up. I want him to see who you belong to."

I stared at our reflection — at the girl with swollen lips and darkening skin, at the man wrapped around her like armor and cage — and something reckless surged through my chest.

"Who said I belong to you?"

He spun me back around so fast my head swam. His grip tightened on my waist, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, his eyes flashing with something dangerous and raw. He pressed his forehead against mine, his nose brushing my cheekbone, his voice dropping to a growl that vibrated through my entire body and settled low in my stomach.

"Don't test my patience, kitten." His thumb dragged across my swollen lower lip, pressing against the cut he had made. "I'm already at the edge. Don't make me show you exactly how you belong to me."

And I stood there, pinned between his body and the wall, my heart thundering, my skin burning where he touched, wondering if I wanted him to fall over that edge — or if I was already falling with him, tumbling headfirst into a darkness that had his name written all over it.

Then he let me go.

Just like that. He stepped back, picked up his coffee cup from the dresser, and took a sip, watching me over the rim with a smug, knowing look that made me want to slap him and kiss him all at once. He was satisfied with himself. He had marked his territory, reminded me of the rules, and now he was going to sit back and watch me try to pretend nothing had happened.

I straightened my clothes with trembling hands, checked my reflection one last time — the marks on my neck impossible to miss, the swelling of my lips obvious even from across the room — and walked out into the hall.

Sahil was waiting.

His books were spread across the coffee table, his posture relaxed, his smile still in place. But as soon as he saw me, his gaze went to my mouth. Then drifted lower, to the dark bruise blooming against my throat.

His face paled.

The smile didn't drop — it froze, cracking at the edges like ice under pressure. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the faded yellow bruise Advik had given him days ago. Then, very deliberately, he looked down at his book, avoiding my gaze entirely.

He knew.

He knew exactly what those marks meant, and he was pretending he didn't because the alternative was admitting that he had already lost.

We worked in uncomfortable silence for an hour.

Sahil flipped pages without reading them, his eyes skimming the same paragraph until the words must have blurred into nonsense. I stared at equations I couldn't solve, my pen frozen above the paper, both of us pretending that the bruise on my neck was a shadow and the swelling of my lips was a trick of the light.

Then he looked at me.

Really looked at me — his gaze steady and sad and too perceptive for my own good.

"I wanted to hold back," he said quietly, closing his book with a soft thud. "But I can't keep pretending I don't see what's happening. Is Advik forcing you? Is he threatening you to stay?"

I was shocked.

Not by the question — I had seen it forming in his eyes since he walked through the door. But by the directness of it. The kindness. Sahil was offering me an escape hatch, a simple narrative where I was the victim and Advik was the villain and all I had to do was say yes, help me, save me.

And I couldn't.

Because yes, Advik had forced me to live with him. He had blackmailed me, dragged me, locked me in rooms and stolen my space and threatened to destroy anyone who came near me. But what happened against that wall — his mouth on mine, his teeth breaking skin, my hands gripping his wet shoulders — that hadn't been force. That had been me. My choice. My hunger. My free fall.

"No." My voice came out flat. Certain. "It's my free will."

Sahil's eyebrows drew together. "You sure? You were sad yesterday. When he was bullying you in the cafeteria, dragging you around — you looked miserable."

"Yes, I was." I set my pen down, my fingers trembling slightly. "Because I thought he was just playing with me. Toying with me. But now it's different."

"What is different, Hazel?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to something gentle and insistent. "When I gave you the bouquet, he looked at me like he wanted to kill me. And those marks on your neck — those aren't love bites. Those are warnings."

My hand flew to my throat before I could stop it. My fingers found the tender spot where Advik's teeth had been, the bruise already darkening to purple.

"It was my free will." The words came out sharper than intended, defensive and brittle, cracking at the edges. "He didn't force me. You understand?"

Now I was getting annoyed.

Why did everyone think they knew what was best for me? Why did they assume I was some helpless damsel trapped in a cage, waiting for a knight with roses and good intentions? Why couldn't they see that the cage had no lock, that I was walking back into it with my head held high, that I had tasted the key and swallowed it?

Sahil studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded, slow and resigned, his shoulders dropping with the weight of something he had decided not to say.

"Okay." He gathered his books, stacking them with careful precision. "But if there's something wrong — if you change your mind, if you need to leave — you can come to me. Anytime. No questions asked."

I nodded, but the words felt hollow in my mouth.

Because the truth was, I wasn't sure if anything was wrong anymore. Or if I had finally found the one thing that felt terrifyingly, perfectly, irreversibly right.