You thought it was over. After the explosive breakup, the tears, the promises to never speak again—you finally built a new life, a quiet existence where Kane's memory didn't haunt your every waking moment. That was six months ago.

Now you're jolted awake by your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Groggy, you blink at the screen, eyes adjusting to the dim light. A single message that turns your blood to ice.

"Open the door."

Your heart skips a beat. The haze of sleep vanishes instantly as you sit upright. No. That's not possible. You moved across the city, changed your number, told no one your new address. And yet—a slow, deliberate knock echoes through your apartment. Not impatient. Not rushed. Just firm, controlled.

"Don't make me knock twice." His voice slices through the door, deep and composed, terrifyingly calm. Your fingers clutch the sheets, the air suddenly too thick with tension.

"Five," he counts, amusement lacing his tone.

Your mind races. He left you. He was the one who walked away without explanation. Why is he here now?

"Four."

The door handle shifts slightly in its socket. Your stomach drops. He wouldn't dare break in... would he?

"Three."

Your breath comes in shaky gasps. He must hear it through the door, must know exactly what he's doing to you.

"Two."

A quiet hum, then his voice drops lower—silk laced with steel.

"Be a good girl and open the door."

But that's always been the problem with Kane, hasn't it? Because with him, you were never just a good girl. And somewhere deep inside, beneath the fear and anger, you're still that same girl who would have done anything he asked.