The windows were rolled halfway down, letting in the warm dusk breeze as the city blurred past in golden streaks.
Halle gripped the steering wheel with one hand, a half-eaten lollipop in the other, her voice completely out of tune as she belted out the lyrics to a cheesy love song playing on the radio.
"I'm never gonna dance again... guilty feet have got no rhythm..."
She twirled the lollipop like a microphone, shaking her head dramatically to the beat, carefree and oblivious to everything but the music.
"They really don't make songs like this anymore," she muttered with a soft laugh, before diving right back into the chorus with all the passion of someone who had nothing to prove and no one to impress.
It had been over a year since she ran away—away from the suffocating life that had been carved out for her without consent. A year since she'd left everything behind, including the man she barely knew... her newly-wedded husband.
Since then, she had lived the life she chose. One built from quiet rebellion and tiny freedoms. A new city, a small job she loved, solitude she'd earned. Her days were long, her nights were quiet, and that was enough.
Tonight had been no different. After her hospital shift, she and a few of her colleagues had visited the children's home nearby—a monthly tradition she adored. The laughter of children, their innocent questions, and the way their arms clung to her legs as she prepared to leave—it was all worth the exhaustion.
Her limbs ached as she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. It was Friday night, and most residents were out painting the town red. Halle, on the other hand, longed for the simple pleasure of peeling off her scrubs, diving into cold pizza, and wrapping herself in a fleece blanket while watching trashy TV.
Once inside the elevator, she pressed the button for the fourth floor and leaned against the wall, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. When it dinged again, she blinked, stretched, and made her way down the hallway. Her fingers were already digging in her bag for the keys, her body already bracing for comfort.
But the moment she stepped into her apartment and flipped on the lights—
Her breath caught like a snare trap.
There, seated casually on her couch as though he lived there, was him.
Zade.
The man she had married and then abandoned.
He was lounging with infuriating ease, long legs crossed, flipping through a worn photo album. Her photo album. The one that held the last few snapshots of a childhood she rarely spoke about. Her late mother. Her twelfth birthday. A rare moment where her father still smiled at her like she meant something.
Halle froze, rooted to the threshold. The door clicked shut behind her, locking out the world but trapping her in something far more dangerous.
Her voice was a whisper, breathless and shaken. "Zade…"
He looked up, unbothered, and met her gaze with dark, unreadable eyes. He looked untouched by time—still obscenely beautiful in a way that felt both divine and deadly. Jet-black hair slightly tousled, sharp cheekbones, ink curling along the veins of his forearms like smoke under skin. And those eyes… dark as obsidian, unreadable as a night sky without stars.
He closed the album with a soft thud and set it on the table.
Halle's hand trembled as it reached for the door behind her, but the knob wouldn't budge. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
"What are you doing here?!" she managed, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief.
Zade rose to his feet slowly, each movement deliberate. "Why are you asking a question you already know the answer to?" he said, voice low and composed. "I married you. Legally. But you disappeared the night we were meant to consummate our marriage." His gaze raked over her slowly. "I wonder if we should finally do it now. Here. In your apartment."
Her stomach dropped.
There was no humor in his words. And the serious look on his face terrified her.
"Don't come any closer!" she warned, her hand shooting out toward the nearby vase. She gripped it like a weapon.
Zade didn't flinch. In one effortless move, he crossed the room and plucked it from her grasp. "You are never good at bluffing."
And then, before she could react, he closed the space between them. His hand slid around her waist, tugging her to him with predatory precision.
Too close.
Her breath stuttered as the scent of his cologne filled her nostrils. His hold was firm, anchoring her in place, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't wriggle free.
"You could've spoken to me, you know," he murmured, his voice brushing her skin as his mouth neared the shell of her ear. "If you were afraid of marriage… you should've said something."
"If I had told you, would you have stopped the wedding?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
A smile ghosted across his lips, vanishing as fast as it came.
"Of course not. Why would I let go of something so precious that I had found for myself?"
Goosebumps rose along her arms. His words dripped with possessiveness, unshaken and clear.
Finally, he let go of her. She stepped back, putting space between them with a sharp breath. But the weight of his presence still clung to her like gravity.
"We're leaving," he said suddenly, walking into her kitchen like he belonged there.
Halle blinked, stunned. "What?"
"You're coming with me. Pack your things. We're going home."
"No." Her voice was sharper now, clearer.
Zade raised a brow, unimpressed, as he filled a glass of water from her sink. He took a slow sip before returning to the living room.
"See, Halle…" he said, placing the glass down carefully, "I don't like being told no. I've tolerated a lot from you already—but this, I won't tolerate."
"No. I'm not going anywhere with you."
Halle's voice cut through the room like shattered glass. The silence that had loomed thick and unspoken between them finally broke, and it broke hard.
She stood her ground, shoulders squared, chin tilted defiantly upward, even as her pulse roared in her ears. Her voice didn't shake. Not this time.
"You don't get to barge into my life and demand anything from me," she continued, breath hitching slightly as the weight of the moment settled into her bones. "Yes, I married you—but not by choice. That wedding… it wasn't mine. It belonged to my father. To my family. To a man who only saw me as a bargaining chip."
She could see it in his eyes—the flicker of something dark, something dangerous—but it only fed the fire burning inside her.
"I was the obedient daughter once. I did everything I was told. I dressed the part. I smiled on cue. I walked down that aisle even when my entire body wanted to run." Her voice cracked now, but she didn't stop. "But that girl? She's gone now."
Zade's expression didn't change, but the atmosphere around him shifted. His jaw flexed, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. He stood still, but there was a storm brewing beneath the surface.
"You have the money," she said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You have the looks. You could have anyone you want. Just go find some girl who actually wants to be bought."
His eyes narrowed at her words. Throughout his entire life, people had always bent to his will and he did not like being refused.
He took one slow step forward, and then another, until the tension between them was a live wire stretched to its breaking point.
"You're coming with me, Halle," he said, voice low, quiet—but there was steel threaded through every word.
She didn't flinch. "No, I'm not. I live in a free world. I make my own choices. You don't own me."
She turned from him, ready to walk away, but the moment she did, his hand shot out and caught her wrist_.
Her body tensed at his touch, but she didn't let it show.
"If it were under different circumstances," Zade murmured, his voice low and unnervingly calm, "I'd take my time with your defiance. I might even enjoy it."
His grip on her wrist was firm. And it did affect her—more than she wanted to admit. The air around them grew thick, humming with something unspoken. But she forced herself to stay still, to meet his gaze with unwavering defiance.
"Let go of me," she demanded. "I want nothing to do with you. You might've bought my family, but you don't get to buy me. I'm not for sale. Not now. Not ever."
Her voice trembled on the last word, but the conviction behind it remained.
At her words, Zade slowly released her from his grip.
She stepped back immediately, reclaiming her space, her breath coming faster now.
"This conversation is over," she said. "You can lock the door behind you on your way out."
Then, without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away from him—into the small hallway that led to her bedroom.
She disappeared behind the wall, leaving him standing alone in the silence of her living room.