Aira stood frozen.
Zayn walked toward her slowly, like a predator who already owned his prey.
"Look at me," he ordered.
She didn't.
A second later, his fingers grabbed her chin and forced her face up.
Their eyes met.
Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
"You're mine now," he said quietly. "Don't forget that."
Aira pushed his hand away.
"I'm not yours. This is just a deal."
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then he laughed.
Low. Dangerous.
"A deal?" he stepped closer. "You really don't understand, do you?"
Her heart pounded—but she refused to step back.
"Then explain."
His expression darkened.
"Rule number one," he said. "You don't leave this house without my permission."
"Rule number two… you don't talk back to me."
Aira crossed her arms.
"And if I break your rules?"
Zayn leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then you'll wish you hadn't."