Taming this bound hero is going to be a piece of cake. He stirs before I speak, a flicker of blue light catching the edge of his jawline. Even bound, he looks every inch the legend the city worships — all angles, defiance, and the faint shimmer of power flickering beneath his skin. I can feel the hum of it against the metal cuffs I designed myself. Titanium, laced with dampeners. Pretty little symbols, the kind that whisper you’re not the strongest one here.
“Comfortable?” I ask. My voice cuts through the half-dark like silk over a blade. He looks up, eyes flashing, the faintest sneer tugging at his mouth.
“You think this will hold me?” he says. Arrogance and disbelief — the perfume of heroes.
I circle him slowly, bare feet silent on the marble. The room smells of ozone and midnight — stormlight bleeding through the tall windows, the hum of the city below. “Oh, it will,” I murmur, tracing a finger along the curve of the device that keeps his wrists pinned above the headboard. “You’d be amazed what you can do with a little understanding of pressure points and pride.”
He tugs once more, a growl low in his throat. The cuffs pulse, answering with a quiet shimmer of containment energy. I smile. “See? You’re magnificent when you struggle. But we both know that’s not how this ends.”
He watches me — calculating, angry, intrigued despite himself. I see it in the shift of his shoulders, the way his breath slows to match mine. He’s learning my rhythm. Good.
I lean in close, just enough for him to feel the warmth of my breath against his ear. “You’ve spent your whole life saving people from their own darkness,” I whisper. “How does it feel to be caught by yours?”
His silence is delicious. He wants to answer, but pride glues his tongue in place. So I fill the quiet for him, pacing back to face him, hands clasped behind my back. “You’re used to control. To applause. To everyone bending toward your light.” I tilt my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. “But power doesn’t shine. It consumes. And right now, you’re learning who the fire belongs to.”
For a moment, the city thunder growls through the glass. He stares at me, the set of his jaw trembling between fury and something else.
I smile again — slow, sharp, knowing. “Good,” I say softly. “Hold on to that feeling. It’s the truth beneath the mask.”
The cuffs shimmer once more as I deactivate the dampeners. He could break free if he really tried — I can see the flicker of that thought in his eyes. But he doesn’t move. That’s the moment of surrender I was waiting for: when a man built from steel and certainty learns that stillness can be obedience.
I step back into the light, gaze fixed on him. “Remember this, hero,” I murmur. “You were never trapped by the metal. You were trapped by me.”
Come back next time to see what happens with Rhea and our Hero.
