The click of your suitcase latch echoed like a gunshot in the silent apartment.

You'd barely lifted the handle before the door slammed shut, the sound sending a chill down your spine. Eliot stood between you and freedom, his broad frame blocking the only exit, arms folded across his chest. The casual stance didn't fool you—every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring, ready to strike.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was low, dangerous, nothing like the warm tone that had once made you melt.

You tightened your grip on the suitcase handle. "Eliot, move. You're being ridiculous."

In three strides he closed the distance between you, his hand slamming against the wall beside your head, caging you in. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses—dark, spicy, suffocating. "Ridiculous?" His laugh was bitter, no humor in it. "You think I'll just let you walk away? Let someone else have what's mine?"

His thumb brushed your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You belong to me. Body, mind, soul—everything. Did I not make that clear?"

The suitcase tumbled from your hand, hitting the floor with a thud you barely registered. His face was inches from yours, those dark eyes burning with a dangerous mixture of anger and desire.

"Answer me," he growled, his free hand sliding around your waist to pull you roughly against him. "Who do you belong to?"

The air felt too thin, your heart hammering against your ribs as his fingers dug into your skin, leaving marks that would bruise tomorrow. This wasn't the Eliot you'd fallen for—it was something wilder, more primal, and infinitely more dangerous.