I watch the moment dawn in his eyes — that fragile flicker of belief that he’s earned my mercy. I am taming him. His arrogance wraps around it like armor, and for a heartbeat, he truly thinks he’s won. I press a small button on my wrist console, and the magnetic cuffs hum once before releasing with a hiss. The room exhales with us.
There,” I say softly. “You’re free.”
He rises slowly, rubbing his wrists, the faint imprint of containment still glowing against his skin. The look he gives me is half triumph, half suspicion — the kind of expression that makes men reckless. “That’s it?” he asks. “You’re just letting me go?”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “You’ve proven your point. You can leave.”
The lie tastes delicious.
He takes a step toward the door, shoulders rolling back into that hero’s stance — posture straight, chin high, ego restored. I trail behind him, quiet, every movement calculated. He pauses at the threshold, glancing back with a smirk. “Guess the great Rhea finally met her match.”
I let a small smile curve my lips. “Guess again.”
The floor pulses beneath his feet — the faint hum of the nanofield awakening. In an instant, invisible filaments snake up around his legs, wrapping with electric precision. He jerks, startled, the blue light flaring across his skin. The trap was already set, waiting beneath the surface since the moment he woke.
His eyes flash with disbelief, then anger. “You—”
“Me,” I finish, stepping closer, my heels clicking against the floor in perfect rhythm. “You should know by now, hero — I never give back what’s mine.”
He struggles against the field, and I watch — calm, deliberate — as the tension in him builds again, like a storm gathering its strength. He’s magnificent when he resists. It’s almost art, watching him fight an opponent he can’t punch.
I tilt my head, studying him. “Freedom was never yours to begin with,” I say softly. “I only wanted to see what you’d do with the illusion of it.”
He meets my gaze then, pride flickering with something more dangerous — respect, perhaps. Maybe even understanding. I let the silence stretch, the hum of the energy field filling the air like a heartbeat. Then I move closer, close enough for him to see the reflection of the lightning outside flicker in my eyes.
“You came here to prove you were stronger,” I whisper. “But strength isn’t the absence of restraint. It’s knowing when to stop fighting.”
My hand hovers near his jaw, not touching — just close enough. He stills, instinctively.
“Now,” I murmur, voice low, “let’s see if you can learn that.”
The storm outside breaks, thunder rolling through the glass as his defiance falters — not in defeat, but in realization. That’s all I need. I turn away, the faintest smile ghosting across my lips.
“I’ll let you think about that,” I say, and with a gesture, the lights dim to black.