It happened outside her campus gates.
Aaria had barely made it two steps off the shuttle when a voice from behind cut through the morning fog like a blade to the spine.
"Well, well… look at you. Still pretending to be clean."
Her entire body locked.
No.
It couldn't be.
She turned.
And there he was.
Rian.
Her mother's cousin. The man who'd moved into their house when she was thirteen. Who took everything from her when no one was looking—then acted like she was the one who needed to be disciplined for it.
She hadn't seen his face in years.
And yet here he was, smug and bold like nothing had ever happened.
"You thought changing your name would keep you safe?" he sneered. "You think working in some rich man's tower makes you untouchable?"
Aaria took a shaky breath. "Stay away from me."
"Oh sweetheart," he smiled, stepping closer. "You owe me more than just words—"
He didn't get to finish that sentence.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Hard.
And in the blink of an eye—he was thrown back against the concrete wall, his face twisted in agony as his arm was bent backward at an unnatural angle.
Rafael.
Not in a suit this time.
But in all-black, sleeves rolled, fists clenched, eyes glowing with murder.
He didn't say a word. Just stared Rian down like he was already dead.
"You touch her again," Rafael said, his voice a snarl, "and I will erase you. Not ruin. Not humiliate. Erase. From every system, every memory, every inch of air you think you deserve to breathe."
"Y-You can't—" Rian stuttered.
Crack.
Rafael drove his fist into his stomach, and the man dropped like a sack of filth.
Aaria didn't speak.
She couldn't.
Her legs gave out, and Rafael caught her before she hit the ground.
He didn't ask if she was okay.
He knew she wasn't.
He lifted her—carried her—into his car, his coat wrapped around her shivering frame, and said not a single word as the driver took off.
It was only when they reached his penthouse that he finally spoke.
"You should have told me."
"I didn't want to need anyone," she said, voice fragile.
He cupped her jaw, tilting her face to his. "But you do."
Her eyes brimmed with tears. "What if you hurt me too?"
"I will," he said without hesitation. "Not with fists. Not with lies. But with obsession. With control. With wanting you so much, it'll tear the world apart if I can't have you."
Her lower lip quivered.
He leaned in.
And this time, he kissed her.
Not soft. Not hesitant.
But hungry. Dangerous. Like he'd waited a lifetime just to taste her fear and melt it down into submission.
Aaria didn't resist.
She kissed him back like she was drowning—and he was the ocean dragging her under.
His hands were everywhere—her hips, her throat, her hair.
Every touch was a promise.
Every breath was a chain.
And as her back hit the velvet of his couch, she realized—
She wasn't scared anymore.
She was owned.