Anna woke screaming.
Her chest heaved like she'd been running for miles, sweat slicking her skin as the nightmare images clung to her consciousness like spider webs. The dream had twisted everything together: Scarface's knife flashing in the garage darkness, Eddie and Raul's faces bloodied and broken because of words she'd whispered to Victor. The nightmare had braided her guilt with her terror until she couldn't separate one from the other, couldn't breathe past the weight crushing her chest.
The trailer door swung open before the echo of her scream had faded. Victor filled the frame, hair mussed from sleep, shirt half-buttoned like he'd thrown it on while running. He crossed the small room in three quick steps, the mattress dipping as he sat beside her.
"What happened?" His voice was low, steady, the kind of calm that cut through panic when everything else felt like drowning.
Anna shook her head, burying her face against her knees. The words came out muffled, broken. "I saw them again. The Serpents with their knives. And Eddie. Raul. All that blood because I told you what they said."
Victor's hand settled on her back, not demanding anything, just present. The weight was solid, real, something to anchor herself to when her mind kept spinning back to violence and guilt. "You're safe now. No one's touching you. Not while I'm breathing."
She hated that his words made her breathing steady. Hated that his presence pushed back the panic when nothing else could reach her in the dark places her mind went.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "It doesn't stop. Every time I close my eyes, they're all there waiting for me. The Serpents want to hurt me, Eddie and Raul are bleeding, and it's all my fault."
Victor shifted closer, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he wanted her complete attention. "That's because you haven't learned to trust the right people yet. Trust me, Anna. I don't let nightmares walk through the door."
Her throat tightened around words she couldn't say. She should have pulled away from his touch. Should have remembered the storage room, the slap that had cracked across her face, the photographs of Benny's tortured corpse. But her body betrayed her rational mind, leaning into the warmth of his hand, the certainty in his voice that promised safety in a world that had shown her none.
Victor brushed a strand of hair from her face with gentle fingers. "They can't hurt you anymore. The Serpents, the traitors, even your own fear. I'm the shield between you and everything that wants to destroy you. All you have to do is let me protect you."
Anna lifted her gaze, caught in his blue eyes that never wavered, never showed doubt or weakness. For one fragile moment that stretched like eternity, she believed him completely. Believed that Victor Kane was her salvation instead of her captor, her protector instead of her tormentor.
Her lips parted as dangerous words trembled on the edge of speech. I love you.
The confession hung there in the space between thought and sound, terrifying in its honesty. Because part of her did love him, or thought she did. Loved the man who made her feel safe when the nightmares came. Loved the strength that had saved her from the Serpents' knives. Loved the certainty that cut through her confusion when everything else felt like chaos.
But she caught herself at the last second, biting down on her tongue until the metallic taste of blood dissolved the words into silence.
Victor didn't seem to notice her near confession. He pulled her into his chest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders like a shield against the world. "Sleep," he murmured against her hair. "I'll stay right here. Nothing's going to hurt you."
Anna closed her eyes again, her heartbeat gradually matching the steady rhythm of his breathing. The nightmare images began to fade, replaced by the solid reality of his presence.
But even as the terror receded, another kind of fear crept in to take its place. The fear of how safe she felt in the arms of the man who'd broken her. The fear of the love growing in her chest for someone who owned her completely.
The fear that she was becoming exactly what he wanted her to be.
Outside the trailer, desert wind rattled the aluminum siding with fingers like bones. But inside, wrapped in Victor's arms, Anna felt protected from everything except the truth about what she was becoming.
She'd heard the term before, whispered in psychology classes and crime documentaries: Stockholm syndrome. When victims began to identify with their captors, to feel gratitude and even love for the people who controlled their lives.
She'd always thought it was weakness, stupidity, something that happened to other people who weren't strong enough to resist.
Now she understood it was something much more dangerous: survival instinct wearing the mask of love.
Victor's breathing deepened as he drifted back toward sleep, still holding her against his chest like she was something precious instead of something owned. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, rhythmic as a lullaby.
Anna lay awake in the darkness, staring at nothing while her mind wrestled with the growing realization that she was losing herself piece by piece. Not through violence or threats, but through moments exactly like this. Moments when her captor became her comfort, when her tormentor became her shelter from the storm he'd created.
She was falling in love with her own destruction, and the worst part was how good it felt to stop fighting.
The confession she'd almost spoken still echoed in her mind: I love you.
Three words that would complete her transformation from victim to willing participant. Three words that would seal her fate more permanently than any chain or cage.
Three words she was terrified she might actually mean.
Victor's arm tightened around her in sleep, possessive even in unconsciousness. His grip was gentle but inescapable, loving but absolute.
Anna closed her eyes and tried not to think about how perfectly she fit against his chest, how natural it felt to be held by the man who'd systematically destroyed everything she used to be.
She tried not to think about how much she wanted to say those three words and mean them completely.
Because that would be the final surrender, the last fortress of her independence falling to an enemy who'd conquered her with kindness after breaking her with cruelty.
And in the suffocating darkness of the trailer, surrounded by the scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his breathing, Anna began to suspect that surrender might feel like coming home.
Last chapter