“I owe you nothing.” My voice trembles slightly as I force the words out, and I hate myself for it. “You don’t get to know about my life. You got what you wanted. I proved that I’m untouched, and still, all you can do is interrogate me.”

He’s quiet, but a storm is brewing behind his eyes, and I don’t know if it’s because of me or his own choices today.

“Why don’t we talk about your life, Judge?” I hurl the words at him. “Why don’t we talk about the women you fuck. The virtues you endorse so diligently while you’re partaking in the oldest temptation in the book. I’ve always wondered how that double standard tastes. How does it feel to be so weak you can’t even uphold yourself to the same standard you expect of me?”

“Mercedes.” His voice is a warning, but I don’t care.

“I hope you enjoy it,” I bite out. “Because those shallow, empty encounters are all you’ll ever have. As for me, I’m going to marry a goddamn Sovereign Son, and you know what, Judge? I’m going to fuck his brains out every night for the rest of my—”

My words die in my throat as he snarls a curse and stalks toward me, dark and deadly. When his hand snakes out to grab my face, I flinch, and it makes him pause, but only for a second.

“You haven’t learned when to keep your mouth shut,” he growls.

“I’m just telling it like it is.” I smile up at him, even though I’m shaking in his grasp. “In fact, you can let me go now. I’m sure there’s another of Santiago’s friends who’d happily take over my care until I’m married. Perhaps one of the Augustine brothers. I mean, I know they live in Seattle, but I could use a change of pace—”

“You. Belong. To. Me!” he roars.

I stare up at him, stunned by his claim, but he ruins it almost as soon as he realizes his mistake.

“For now,” he utters, releasing me with a ragged breath. “You are in my care, Mercedes. That’s not going to change. And if or when you ever do decide to marry, I will be the one to give my approval.”

“You’re a goddamn liar.” I blink rapidly in an attempt to dispel the tears I feel building behind my eyes.

“I will hand you over myself.” He says it so callously that there can be no doubt about his words. “And I will do it with pleasure.”

His assurance stings, but I can’t forget what he just said. Or the expression on his face when he said it. I pushed him to that point, and he slipped. He wants me. He just can’t admit it to himself.