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ZANDER

The elevator climbs too slowly, every second stretching out into a painful eternity. My heart pounds as I replay the image from my tablet—the sheer panic in Ivan's eyes as he clutched something in his hands, his breathing uneven, his body trembling. I don't know what's wrong, but I know I need to get to him. Now.

When the elevator finally opens, I stride down the short hallway, pressing my thumb against the scanner. The massive double doors unlock with a soft click, and I push them open, stepping inside with a single-minded focus.

"Ivan?" I call out, my voice low but urgent as I move through the penthouse.

I find him near the bookshelf by the balcony. He's standing rigidly, his face pale, but there's a semblance of control in his posture, like he's barely holding himself together. His eyes flicker to me, dark and furious, and I immediately step forward, reaching out to him instinctively.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Ivan's voice erupts, raw and filled with a pain that slams into me like a physical blow. I freeze, my hand hovering mid-air, his anger stopping me cold.

"Ivan, what's wrong?" I ask, my voice softer now, careful, as I take a cautious step forward.

His gaze sharpens, his tone low and chilling. "Zander, I swear to God, stay away from me."

My heart sinks, plummeting to the pit of my stomach. What's happening? We were fine earlier today—he texted me, even teased me. Last night, we were together, laughing, connected. How did we get here? My mind races with possibilities, trying to piece together the cause of his sudden outburst. Did someone say something to him? Did I miss a sign?

I clench my fists, fury bubbling beneath my confusion. Whoever or whatever caused this, I'll deal with them. I swear I'll—

"What is this, Zander?" Ivan snaps, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

I follow his glare to the small metallic object in his hand. My stomach churns.

"A camera," I answer cautiously, my voice tight.

"Well no fucking shit," he spits, his tone dripping with venom.

His eyes burn into mine, a mixture of betrayal and fury that leaves me reeling. "How did it get in here? This is supposed to be a secure place," he says, his voice trembling with anger.

I hesitate before answering, my voice small, uncharacteristically fearful. "I also have my fingerprint registered."

Ivan's face twists with disbelief, then disgust. "I'm leaving," he says abruptly, turning on his heel.

Panic floods me. "Ivan, wait! I genuinely don't understand. Let's talk about this, please." My voice cracks, desperation creeping in. If I let him walk out that door now, I know he'll be gone for good.

He doesn't stop, his footsteps determined. Acting on instinct, I grab his hand, holding him back. "I won't let you go. Please, let's talk about this," I plead, my voice raw and trembling with sincerity.

Ivan turns slowly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You won't let me go?" he echoes, his tone eerily calm. I immediately drop his hand, uncertain, lost.

His voice rises again, sharp and accusing. "Do you think that just because you're an Alpha, you have all this money, all this power, and because you bought me this place, gave me money, handed me the modeling gig—you own me?"

He jabs a finger into my chest with each word, the sting of his accusation cutting deeper than I could have ever anticipated.

"Of course not," I stammer, trying to explain, but he doesn't let me finish.

"Oh really? Then explain this!" he snaps, holding up the camera. "Explain how you have unfettered access to what is supposed to be my home. You can come and go as you please, watch me without my permission—how is this place even mine, Zander? What's the fucking point if I'm still under your control?"

His words are daggers, and I'm at a loss, my mouth dry, my mind scrambling for something to say.

"You think I'm comfortable with this?" he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "Being watched, being treated like a fucking pet? Is that what you want, Zander? Did I escape Dorian just to end up with someone like him? What's next? Are you going to track my every move? Ask for a report when I breathe?"

"Ivan, that's not true—" I start, my voice breaking, but he cuts me off again.

"Isn't it?" he asks bitterly, his voice quieter now, trembling. "There's this massive power difference between us, Zander,and right now, I feel so fucking small. I'm scared."