Page 52 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
Ellie rises instinctively, like she intends to stand her ground, but I’m already there.
I brace my hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in before she can move away.
“Sit,” I say sharply.
She tries to push past me. “Mike, move—”
I press her back into the chair with controlled force and drop into a crouch in front of her so we’re eye level.
She’s breathing faster now, anger flashing across her face.
“You don’t get to threaten that,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.
Her hands push against my shoulders. “Mike, you can’t keep me here against my—”
“I’m not fucking around, Ellie.”
The words cut through her sentence like a blade.
She freezes.
My hands close around the arms of the chair beside her thighs, trapping her there without touching her.
“You want honesty?” I continue, my voice steady but hard. “Then listen carefully.”
Her eyes search my face, defiant but uncertain now.
“This marriage is not temporary.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You are my wife.”
She opens her mouth to argue again, but I don’t let her.
“You don’t get to walk away from this because you’re angry or frustrated or scared.”
My gaze locks onto hers.
“You’re mine,” I say quietly but firmly. “And you’d better accept that and learn how to live with it.”
For a moment, neither of us moves.
The tension between us is thick enough to choke on.
Ellie is the first to break it.
She looks away, shaking her head slightly. “You’re being dramatic.”
I straighten a little, studying her face.
“No,” I say calmly. “I’m not.”
Her eyes flick back to mine.
“I’m being serious.”
I lean closer again, making sure she hears every word.
“You’ll always be mine.”
She scoffs under her breath.
