Chris steps inside, and Hazel instinctively moves back, but there’s no escape. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing her fate. The air is suffocating—thick with something dark, something dangerous.

"You lied to me." His voice is eerily quiet, too calm for the storm raging in his eyes. "You looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love him."

Hazel swallows hard, her fingers trembling. "Chris, I—"

"Don’t." His voice is sharp, cutting through her like a blade. "Don’t you dare."

She opens her mouth, but the way his jaw clenches, the way his fists tighten at his sides—she knows better than to push him.

"Tell me," he demands, stepping closer, his breath ghosting against her skin. "Say it to my face. Tell me you love him."

Hazel’s lips part, but the words refuse to come out.

Her throat tightens. The answer is obvious, but saying it out loud feels like pressing a knife to her own chest.

"Was it to protect him?" His voice darkens, dripping with venom. "Tell me, Hazel—was that why you lied? To save Vincent?"

Hazel’s breath catches. "Chris, please—"

His jaw clenches, his fists flexing like he’s restraining himself. Then his expression shifts—colder, crueler.

"What if I hurt him now?" His voice is soft, but the threat in it is razor-sharp.

Her heart lurches. "No, you won’t," she says quickly, shaking her head.

Chris lets out a low, bitter laugh. "I can. And I will."

Before she can react, he yanks her forward, gripping her wrist so tight she gasps. His face is just inches from hers now, his breath warm against her skin.

"If he doesn’t stop coming between us, Hazel, I swear I’ll make sure he does." His voice is a promise, dark and unwavering.

She shoves against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. "Stop this madness, Chris!"

A slow, wicked smirk tugs at his lips. "I haven’t even begun, Hazel."

She struggles, trying to break free, but his grip tightens—possessive, unrelenting. His fingers trail down her arm, deceptively gentle, before he suddenly jerks her closer, forcing her body against his.

"You don’t get to walk away from me," he murmurs, voice like silk laced with steel. "You think you can run into his arms and pretend I never existed?"

Hazel’s pulse pounds. "Chris—"

He cups her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "I decide when this ends. Not you. Not him. Me."

Her breath stutters, her heart hammering in her chest.

Chris leans in, his voice a whisper against her lips. "You belonged to me the moment I laid eyes on you."

Hazel shudders, her fingers digging into his wrist, but he doesn’t let go. He’s not done. Not even close.

He leans in just enough that she can feel his next words like a brand against her skin.

"You’ll never be his."

Hazel shakes her head furiously. "You don’t own me!"

Her pulse pounds as he trails his fingers down her arm—gentle, deceptive. A touch that could be mistaken for tenderness. But Chris has never been gentle. Not with her. Not with anything he wants.

And he wants her.

His fingers tighten suddenly, and before she can react, he yanks the ring off her finger.

Her stomach twists. “Chris, don’t!”

He lifts the ring, inspecting it between his fingers like it’s something filthy. Something offensive.

"Vincent gave you this?" His voice is low, calculated. Deadly.

Hazel doesn’t answer, but the way her breath stutters, the flicker of guilt in her eyes—it's enough.

Chris lets out a slow, cruel chuckle. "You’re wearing something another man gave you?" His fingers tighten around the ring, his knuckles going white.

Hazel lunges, desperation flashing across her face. “Chris, give it back.”

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. "No."

And with one swift motion, he tosses it into the dustbin.

Hazel gasps, her chest heaving. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Chris doesn’t flinch. His jaw ticks, his expression unreadable. “That’s where it belongs.”

Fury surges through her. “You don’t get to decide that!”

He moves before she can pull away, grabbing her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. His grip isn’t painful, not yet, but it’s unyielding. Commanding. A warning.

"I decide everything when it comes to you," he murmurs.

Hazel glares at him, anger flickering beneath her fear. “I don’t belong to you, Chris.”

His grip tightens just enough to make her breath hitch. His eyes—dark, consuming—dare her to repeat it.

“Say that again.”

Hazel’s throat goes dry, but she forces the words out. “I don’t belong to you.”

Chris exhales slowly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. A knowing smirk. One that says he’s already won.

“We’ll see about that.”

Tears burn at the back of her eyes, but she blinks them away. “You had no right—”

He cuts her off with a sharp tug, his hand gripping her waist, yanking her against him.

"I had every right." His voice is dangerously soft, almost tender, as his fingers press into her skin. "You were supposed to be mine."

Hazel shoves at his chest, her breath ragged. 

Chris barely moves. He catches her wrists in one swift motion, pinning them against the wall. His body presses against hers, heat radiating between them, suffocating her. Trapping her.

His eyes burn into hers, something raw, untamed, feral swirling in their depths.

"You keep fighting me," he murmurs, voice low, insidious. "But we both know how this ends, don’t we?"

Hazel’s breathing turns shallow. She shakes her head, refusing to believe it. Refusing to give in.

"I’ll never be yours, Chris."

His lips brush against her ear, his voice sinking into her skin like a brand.

"You already are."

A violent shiver runs through her, and she hates it. Hates how his presence consumes her. How his words twist into her bones, into something unshakable.

A shiver racks Hazel’s spine. She wants to scream, to shove him away—but the way his presence consumes her, the way his words carve into her skin—it paralyzes her.

Chris tilts his head, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You’re really going on that date with him, huh?"

Hazel stays silent, but silence is just another kind of confession.

His patience fractures. The shift is instant. His fingers tighten around her wrist—unyielding, unmerciful. "Enough dreaming about fairytales, Hazel," he murmurs, voice laced with something lethal. "It’s time for a nightmare."

Her breath stutters. "Chris—"

He yanks her forward, his grip branding her skin. "You don’t get to run from me."

"Let go of me!" Hazel shoves at his chest, panic swelling, but he barely moves.

His jaw flexes, his gaze burning into hers. "You think I’ll just watch you waltz into his arms?" He exhales a sharp laugh, humorless. "I decide who you belong to. And it’s not him."

Her pulse slams against her ribs.

Chris’s fingers flex around her wrist, dragging her toward the door.

"Where are you taking me?" she demands, her voice trembling.

His eyes glint—dark, possessive, merciless. "Right Where you belong."

Hazel thrashes, desperation clawing at her chest. "You’re insane!"

Chris doesn’t even blink. "No, Hazel. I’m just done pretending."

He yanks open the door, pulling her into his darkness

***

Vincent drove toward Hazel’s house, a bright smile stretching across his face as he imagined their perfect date . Everything was set—the atmosphere, and most importantly, her.

His gaze flickered to the passenger seat, where a fresh bouquet of roses rested, their petals vibrant and delicate. He had spent extra time picking them, making sure they were perfect. Just like she deserved.

"I can’t wait," he murmured, anticipation thrumming through his veins. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he pressed down on the accelerator, eager to reach her.

Today would be unforgettable.

***

Chris yanked Hazel out of the house, dragging her through .

"Chris, let go of me! You can’t do this!" she struggled, her voice raw with panic.

He didn’t reply. Didn’t even hesitate.

The car door flew open, and before she could resist, he shoved her inside. Hazel scrambled to escape, her fingers clawing at the handle—but the sharp click of the lock sealed her fate.

"Chris!" she banged her fists against the window as he slid into the driver’s seat. "Goddamn it, stop this!"

Still, he said nothing. Just turned the key, the engine growling to life like a beast ready to devour.

Hazel’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Where is he taking me?

Then, finally, he spoke—his voice dark, laced with something terrifyingly final.

"I’m taking you where you will be chained to my desires."

Her breath hitched.

To be Continued...

Author’s Note: This story has a similar tone to You Are Mine—one good guy, the other possessive. 😅 The good guy’s role is also similar, but the story itself won’t be the same. I don’t want that.