The Prisoner of Silk: 8. The Last Lesson and Truth in Chain

The penthouse smelled of cordite and blood. Broken glass glimmered across the marble like fallen stars, sharp edges catching the glow of the city lights outside.

She sat slumped against the sofa, silk clinging damply to her skin, her chest rising and falling in erratic waves. Every nerve trembled from the adrenaline. She should have been terrified. She should have been thinking of escape, of the man who had invaded, of the revelation that she wasn’t just some random possession.

But all she could think of was him.

He was standing over her, chest heaving, his shirt torn and streaked with crimson. His gun dangled loose in his hand, but his eyes burned with something far hotter than rage. They were wild, desperate, a man unmoored.

“You see now,” he rasped, voice low, ragged. “The world wants to tear you apart. Take you, use you, break you. And I—” He crouched down suddenly, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. His thumb smeared blood across her jaw, min