Emily exhaled slowly, her nerves still raw from the evening's events. The Blue Lily Café's warm glow seemed almost distant now, fading into the night like a dream slipping through her fingers. She glanced up at Ryan, his expression calm, unreadable, yet there was something about the way he watched her that sent a quiet shiver down her spine.
"I had a nice time," she said softly, forcing herself to sound normal, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just battled her own mind to reclaim control. As if Ryan hadn't noticed.
His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "So did I."
She hesitated for a moment, studying his face, searching for any hint that he saw through her facade. But Ryan, as always, was impossible to read.
"Well, goodnight," she said, turning to leave before the weight of his gaze could pull her in any deeper.
Ryan watched as she disappeared into the night, his fingers idly tapping against the table. She thought this was goodbye, that she might see him again if fate allowed it.
But fate had nothing to do with it.
He had already decided.
Emily was his. Whether she knew it or not, whether she ran or stayed—her mind, her illness, her secrets—none of it mattered. Nothing would keep her from him. Not her fears. Not her alters. Not even herself.
With a slow inhale, he leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening.
She would see him again.
Because he would make sure of it.