Vincent's eyes-stormy, dangerous, maddening-locked onto mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The air between us wasn't air anymore; it was molten, charged, suffocating. My pulse pounded in my ears, and every nerve in my body screamed that one wrong step would send me plummeting straight into ruin.

But oh God, wasn't that the temptation?

He leaned in, not touching, just close enough that his breath ghosted across my cheek. "Careful, Violet," he murmured, voice low and lethal, like velvet wrapped around a blade. "Burns leave scars. And I don't think you'd survive mine."

I swallowed hard, muscles trembling. "Maybe I don't want to survive them."

His hand twitched at his side, like he was holding himself back from grabbing me, pinning me, doing something we'd both regret. Or maybe we wouldn't regret it at all.

The silence dragged, a war in my chest between fear and craving. Caroline's warning still echoed in my head: the dangerous dragon will drag you down with him. And yet here I was, daring him to consume me.

Finally, he tore his gaze away, muttering a curse. The sudden loss of his heat made me shiver.

"Pack your things," Vincent said, tone clipped. "We're leaving. Now."

I blinked. "What? No! This is my life, Vincent. You can't just-"

His eyes cut into mine, lethal. "Someone tried to crawl through that window tonight with a gun. They weren't here for me. They were here for you. If you think I'm letting you stay here like a sitting target, you're more foolish than I thought."

"Foolish?" My voice cracked with fury. "You break into my life, drag me into your chaos, and now I'm foolish for not wanting to follow you like some obedient little-"

In a blink, he was on me. One hand braced against the wall by my head, the other hovering dangerously close to my waist. His proximity was a weapon, and I felt the impact all the way down to my bones.

"You think this is about obedience?" His voice was a growl, his lips inches from mine. "This is about survival. Yours. Do you have any idea what I've done tonight to keep you breathing? Do you want the body count?"

My throat tightened. He wasn't bluffing.

But damn him, the worst part was how his fury only made me want him more.

"Tell me the truth," I whispered. "If it had been anyone else-if I were anyone else-you wouldn't care. Would you?"

His jaw flexed, his eyes burned into mine. "You're not anyone else."

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. I shoved past him, grabbing my coat just to keep my hands busy. "Fine. Let's go, dragon. Drag me wherever you want."

His laugh was humorless. "You really are begging for trouble."

"Good," I snapped. "Because trouble's already here."

---

The drive was suffocating. Vincent's car roared through the midnight streets, headlights slicing the dark like knives. Neither of us spoke. I pressed against the passenger door, arms wrapped tight, as if I could cage the storm inside me.

But silence has a way of amplifying everything. Every stolen glance, every breath, every memory of him pinning me against that wall replayed on loop.

Finally, I broke. "Where are we even going?"

"Safehouse."

"Oh, wonderful. Another hideout where you can play tortured gangster and I can play terrified hostage. Charming."

He shot me a look, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You're not terrified."

I scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Violet." His voice dipped low. "If you were terrified, you'd be running. You're still here."

My stomach flipped. Damn him-he was right.

I turned to the window, unwilling to let him see the betrayal written across my face. Not betrayal of him, but of myself. Because Caroline was right: the dragon wasn't dragging me down. I was stepping willingly into his fire.

---

The safehouse wasn't a grimy lair. It was sleek, modern, glass and steel overlooking the river. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air.

"Wow," I muttered. "For a wanted criminal, you've got excellent taste in real estate."

Vincent tossed his keys onto the counter. "Perks of being underestimated."

"You should sleep," he said.

"Sleep? After someone tried to murder me through a window? Do you seriously think I can just curl up and count sheep?"

"I'll stand guard. You'll be fine."

"Fine?" My laugh cracked. "Nothing about this is fine. You think dragging me into your world is protecting me? It's not. It's drowning me."

He closed in, slow and deliberate, heat radiating off him. "And yet... you're still not asking to leave."

"Because if I leave, Rudolpho will kill me. If I stay, you might kill me. Those are my choices, aren't they?"

His expression flickered-pain, quickly masked. "I told you. I can never kill you."

Something in his tone ached inside me. And that was when I realized: Vincent Virenson, the man who had ruined everything, might be the only one keeping me alive.

And that was the cruelest temptation of all.

---

Hours crawled by. I couldn't sleep. Vincent paced like a predator, restless, burning.

Finally, I whispered into the darkness, "Why me?"

His head snapped toward me.

I pushed on. "Out of everyone you could've dragged into this, why me? Why not let me marry Rudolpho and live in oblivion?"

"Because oblivion would've killed you faster than any bullet."

I laughed bitterly. "And your world won't?"

He came closer, gripping the back of the couch, face inches from mine. "No. My world will test you. Break you. Burn you. But it won't kill you. Because I won't let it."

The sincerity in his voice terrified me more than his gun ever could.

"Vincent..." My voice cracked. "You can't keep saving me. One day, you'll slip. And when you do-"

His hand brushed mine. Sparks ignited. "Then we both burn."

The pull was unbearable. I should've pulled away. I didn't.

The world outside ceased to exist. It was just us, tangled in temptation, teetering on the edge of something lethal and irresistible.

And then-my phone buzzed on the table.

The screen lit up with one word that made my blood run cold.

RUDOLPHO.

My heart stopped. Why was he calling me?!