HARRYS POV
She's lying beside me, tucked into the soft sheets of the penthouse bed, her breathing slow and even. One hand curled loosely at her chest, lips parted slightly in sleep. She looks peaceful.
But I'm not.
Because peace was never the point.
I run my fingers along her bare shoulder, memorizing the curve of her collarbone, the heat of her skin. The sheets still smell like her. Like sweat and lavender. Like victory.
Because she said yes.
She said she's mine.
And that word mine it sits on my tongue like sugar and venom all at once. Sweet, possessive, permanent. I fought for her. I tore down the world to have her again. I broke rules. Bent reality. Built this version of us where she could be safe. Be obedient. Be loved.
She thinks this is love.
And maybe it is.
But it's not the kind she can walk away from. Not anymore
——
She shifts in her sleep, murmurs something incoherent, and instinctively curls toward me. My arm wraps around her without thinking. Protective. Possessive.
She doesn't know what she's wrapped herself into. Not fully.
Because the Aurora I fell for was fierce—wildfire in a wineglass. I never wanted to tame her. I wanted to burn with her. But when she left—when she looked at me like I was something to be feared—it rewired something in me.
She broke me first.
So now I've rewritten the script.
Let her think this is forgiveness. Let her believe the whispered I love yous, the breakfasts in bed, the city view. The silken ropes tucked into the drawer by the bedframe. The ones I only use when she asks, even though I dream of tying her down again, just to watch her *choose* not to scream.
She'll stay. Not because she's trapped.
Because she'll believe this is her choice.
And that is the sweetest lie of all.
I rise quietly, walking barefoot to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. The skyline blinks back at me from the windows. Somewhere out there is the world I stole her from. The one I'm keeping her safe from.
They'll all say I'm the villain.
But they didn't see what I saw in her eyes tonight.
She's not broken.
She's becoming mine, in every way.
And I don't plan on letting her remember what it felt like to be free.