"Mmhhff!"
I tried to wrench my hands free, but the belt held tight—too tight.
"Oh no," he said calmly, satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth.
"You're not getting away now."
Before I could react, he stood, scooped me up with ease, and tossed me over his shoulder.
"You know," he added casually, "I've always liked your weight. Perfect."
Sweet talker.
Annoying.
Infuriating.
From where I hung against his back, I looked around.
The villa—the place I'd lived in for a month—was nothing but shattered pieces now. Broken walls, crushed glass, twisted metal. The bulldozers were still working, as if making sure nothing survived.
Like children smashing Lego bricks just because they could.
The masked man stood there, watching us leave.
I couldn't read him anymore. Not anger. Not grief. Just… empty.
Then suddenly—movement.
I was tossed again, this time landing in Raven's lap as he settled into the driver's seat.
I immediately started hitting his chest with my bound hands—not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to vent everything boiling inside me.
Anger.
Relief.
Fear.
Confusion.
He caught my wrists with one hand and tilted my head back with the other.
"Behave."
His eyes held no room for negotiation.
Not asking.
Ordering.
Oh.
So this is how it is now.
A declaration of war, then.
But I wasn't stupid enough to fight here—not after what he'd just done to the villa, to everyone in it.
I broke eye contact first.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—unexpectedly—he pressed a kiss to my forehead. Soft. Brief.
He released my wrists and started the engine.
The drive was quiet.
So quiet it felt like those twenty minutes stretched into years.
I stayed on his lap, my head resting against his shoulder. One of his hands stayed on the steering wheel, the other wrapped firmly around me—protective, possessive, like he was trying to keep me anchored inside him.
And maybe…
Bury me there.