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The night had fallen, but it felt like daylight had never truly left. The pier where Rowan had cornered her was shrouded in an oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of the distant waves crashing against the rocks below. It was cold, the biting wind tearing at Elara's skin, but it was the coldness inside her that stung more than anything else.
Rowan stood in front of her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, a dangerous calmness surrounding him. He hadn't said a word since he'd arrived, only watching her as if waiting for her to come to some realization.
"I don't know what you want from me anymore," Elara whispered, her voice shaky as she stared at him. The words felt like an admission of defeat, but they were true. She didn't understand him anymore. She didn't even understand herself.
Rowan took a step closer, his expression unreadable. He reached out, tilting her chin upward with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What do I want, Elara?" His voice was deceptively soft, but there was a steel-like edge beneath it. "I want you. All of you. You belong to me, don't you understand?"
Elara's pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to pull away, to break free of his touch, but there was something in his eyes—something that held her captive, rooting her to the spot.
"I've never been yours," she said quietly, though the words felt hollow in her mouth. She had always been independent. She had always prided herself on being strong, on making her own choices. But now, with Rowan standing before her, his grip on her tightening more every day, she wasn't so sure of anything anymore.
Rowan's lips curved into a dark smile, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, Elara," he murmured, the words dripping with affection that didn't feel like affection at all. "You've always been mine. You just didn't know it yet. But now, you will."
He pulled her closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her lips, his warmth seeping into her skin. His presence consumed her, overwhelming her senses, and for a moment, Elara couldn't think. All she could focus on was the closeness, the undeniable attraction, and the terrifying need to push him away and hold on at the same time.
"Let me go, Rowan," she said through gritted teeth, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Please. I can't do this anymore."
His eyes darkened, and the playfulness in his expression vanished. He stepped back slightly, his hand falling away from her chin, but he didn't let her go. He was watching her like a predator eyeing its prey, savoring the moment before he made his next move.
"You don't get to tell me what you can and can't do," Rowan said softly, his voice low and chilling. "I told you. You're mine. And that means you'll do what I say, when I say it."
Elara's breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and fury. She felt the walls around her closing in, the weight of his words suffocating her. She didn't know what to do anymore. The part of her that wanted to fight—wanted to run—was buried beneath the part that felt drawn to him, to his darkness.
"You can't control me," she whispered, though she wasn't even sure she believed it anymore.
Rowan's smile returned, but this time it was colder. "I already have, Elara," he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and something more sinister. "You just haven't realized it yet."
His hand moved to her wrist, and before she could protest, he pulled her closer again, this time with a force that made her stomach lurch. She tried to pull away, her hands pressing against his chest, but it was no use. His grip was iron-clad, and every time she tried to fight him, he only seemed to tighten his hold.
"I won't let you go," Rowan said, his lips brushing her ear. "I won't let you ruin what we have. You belong to me. And if you think you can run from me, think again."
Elara's pulse hammered in her ears, her body trembling under his touch. Her mind screamed for her to break free, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead. The pull of Rowan's influence was too strong, too overwhelming. She was drowning in it, and she couldn't tell if she was fighting for air or giving in to the suffocating embrace.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke the tension, and Rowan's grip faltered for a split second, allowing Elara to step back. She quickly glanced around, her heart racing, but she saw no one.
"Get in the car," Rowan ordered, his voice hard now, no trace of gentleness remaining. His eyes darkened with an almost predatory gleam, and she knew better than to argue.
Without another word, Rowan grabbed her wrist once again and began to lead her toward his car, his pace quick and unyielding. Elara stumbled, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Where was he taking her? What did he want from her?
She could feel herself slipping further into his control, and the thought made her stomach twist in dread.
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The drive to Rowan's house felt longer than it actually was. The silence between them was heavy, charged with the unspoken words and the unbearable tension that hung in the air. Elara sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. She barely recognized herself anymore. The girl who had been independent, who had had dreams and hopes, felt like a distant memory.
When they arrived at Rowan's house, he didn't wait for her to get out of the car. He opened her door, pulled her out, and led her inside. Elara didn't fight him. She had learned that resistance only made things worse.
The house was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of lamps in the hallway. Rowan led her to a room at the back of the house—a room that Elara had never seen before.
He shut the door behind them and locked it, turning to face her with that same unsettling smile. "This is your new home," he said, his voice low and commanding.
"I'm not staying here," Elara said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound firm. "You can't make me."
Rowan's smile never wavered. "You'll learn to love it," he said, his voice soft, but the words were filled with malice. "Because you're not leaving. Not until you realize that you need me."
Elara stepped back, her eyes scanning the room in desperation, looking for any way to escape. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Rowan had already made sure of that.
"I hate you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Rowan's smile faltered, just for a moment. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "No," he said softly, his fingers brushing against her skin. "You love me. You just don't know it yet."
Tears welled up in Elara's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he was this close. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken.
"I won't let you do this to me," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Rowan's hand tightened on her cheek, his grip almost painful now. "You have no choice, Elara," he said, his voice colder than ever. "You're mine. And you'll stay mine, no matter how much you fight it."
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