Twisted Devotion

Twenty Nine

As the door clicked shut behind her, Ava's anger bubbled beneath her skin, a pulse that grew stronger with each passing second. Dom's calm, almost playful demeanor gnawed at her, making her feel like a mouse toyed with by a cat. She sank down onto the small cot, her fingers twisting in the frayed blanket as she stared at the door, biting back her frustration. He knew. He'd wanted her to see that she was trapped by more than walls; she was captive to the very land surrounding them.

Moments passed in thick silence before she heard his footsteps approach. The door creaked open, and Dom stepped inside, closing it with a soft click. He leaned against it, his dark gaze studying her intently, assessing, like he was gauging the impact of his little test. His amusement had faded, replaced by a quiet intensity, the embers of something darker.

"Do you really think you can get away from me?" His voice was low, but there was a simmering edge to it that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ava's jaw clenched, and she met his gaze defiantly. "You don't own me, Dom. One day, I'll find a way out of here, and you'll never see me again."

A dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he took a step closer. "Maybe I want you to think that," he said, almost whispering, his words slithering through the tense air. "Maybe I want you to try. Keeps things interesting."

Her defiance faltered as he closed the distance between them, his presence filling the small room. The usual darkness in his eyes seemed deeper tonight, more shadowed, as if the forest itself had seeped into him. He crouched down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he looked up at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and intrigue.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Determined. Defiant. I could leave that door wide open every day, and you'd still come running back. Because deep down, Ava, you know there's nowhere else for you to go. This is it. Just you, me, and the trees."

Ava's heart raced, her skin prickling under the weight of his words. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she would keep fighting, keep trying. But something in his gaze—some twisted sense of control and confidence—made her pause. His hands reached forward, gripping her wrists lightly, a touch that was gentle yet possessive, as if to remind her who held the power here.

"Save your energy," he murmured, releasing her wrists and standing back up. "I'd hate for you to waste it on hopeless dreams."

He moved to the other side of the cabin, gathering a few supplies, seeming almost casual now, as if their exchange had been nothing more than a casual conversation. Ava watched him, her anger simmering into something sharper, something she could hold onto, something that might sustain her through this nightmare. She might be trapped, but she wouldn't break. Not yet.