Morning spilled gold over the city as Ryan's car rolled through quiet streets toward his human-world mansion.
Hazel sat beside him, still warm from the night they had shared.
Every so often her fingers brushed her lips unconsciously—
remembering how close he had come to kissing her.
Ryan noticed.
Smirked.
But said nothing.
He liked her flustered.
Too much.
The gates of the Smith estate came into view—
and Ryan suddenly slowed.
His expression hardened.
Hazel frowned.
"What is it?"
Ryan's eyes narrowed.
"There."
At the wrought-iron gate—
someone lay curled against the stone pillar.
Sleeping.
Or collapsed.
Hazel's breath caught.
Kyle.
His clothes were wrinkled.
His face unshaven.
He looked as if he had been there all night.
Waiting.
Ryan killed the engine.
Silence.
Then Kyle stirred, hearing the car.
He looked up—
saw Hazel—
and scrambled to his feet.
"Hazel!"
He rushed forward before security could react.
Ryan was out of the car before Hazel could blink.
Predatory.
Cold.
Dangerous.
"Don't."
One word.
And Kyle stopped.
But desperation made him reckless.
He looked at Hazel as if Ryan didn't exist.
"I waited all night."
His voice cracked.
"I had to see you."
Hazel stepped out slowly.
Ryan instinctively moved in front of her.
Kyle's eyes filled.
"Please… just hear me out."
Hazel said nothing.
She only watched.
And that silence wounded him more than anger.
Kyle took another step.
"The contract is gone."
Ryan's jaw flexed.
Kyle continued.
"It was terminated."
His voice shook now.
"I lost everything."
Hazel remained still.
Then Kyle whispered—
"But I can still get you back."
That did it.
Ryan moved.
Fast.
His hand caught Kyle's collar and slammed him lightly against the gate.
Not enough to injure.
Enough to warn.
"You will choose your next words carefully."
Kyle stared, shaken.
But obsession overrode fear.
"I traded you because I was drowning—"
Hazel flinched.
Ryan's eyes darkened murderously.
Kyle looked at Hazel, desperate.
"I made a mistake."
His voice broke.
"I came to fix it."
Still—
Hazel said nothing.
Ryan slowly released him.
But stayed between them.
Like a wall.
Kyle dropped to his knees.
Actually dropped.
Before both of them.
And begged.
"Please come back."
The rawness in his voice made even the guards shift uneasily.
Hazel's heart tightened—
not with love—
but grief for what once was.
Still she said nothing.
Because silence…
was stronger.
Ryan glanced at her.
Waiting.
Letting her choose.
Kyle's voice cracked again.
"Hazel… please."
Tears threatened his eyes.
Hazel finally stepped forward.
Ryan moved aside—
but stayed close.
Kyle looked up at her like a drowning man.
And Hazel spoke quietly.
Not cruelly.
But with devastating calm.
"You do not miss me, Kyle."
"You miss access to me."
"You miss what you lost."
She paused.
His face crumpled.
"You offered me away as if I were a bargaining chip."
Her voice shook now—
but only with old pain.
"And now you call that love?"
Kyle looked destroyed.
Hazel continued—
"When I needed loyalty, you chose survival."
"When I needed protection, you traded me."
"When I needed love…"
She touched Ryan's hand.
"…someone else gave it."
Kyle lowered his head.
Broken.
Even Ryan looked at Hazel differently.
As if seeing new power in her.
Hazel's final words came almost as a whisper—
and somehow cut deepest.
"You did not lose me today, Kyle."
"You lost me the day you believed I could be owned."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Kyle looked as though the words had physically struck him.
Ryan's hand found Hazel's waist.
Possessive.
Protective.
Proud.
Then he said coldly—
"Leave my gates."
Kyle rose slowly.
Shattered.
He looked at Hazel one last time.
Then walked away.
Not defeated.
Not yet.
But wounded.
And obsession rarely dies from wounds.
As the gates opened and Ryan led Hazel inside, Bella, Klara, Liam and the others emerged from the mansion.
Bella blinked.
"What happened?"
Ryan looked almost amused.
"Our Luna broke a man with words."
Hazel blushed.
Klara grinned.
"That's our girl."
But as they entered the estate—
far beyond the gates—
Kyle stopped walking.
Turned.
And looked back.
His expression had changed.
Less pleading.
More dangerous.
And somewhere deep inside—
something obsessive had only begun.