142. Toying with Me

Rose's POV:

The sharp breath I sucked in barely helped steady me. "What—" I shook my head, trying to grasp at whatever absurd meaning lay behind his actions. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"

I took a step closer, pressing my palms against the cool glass, my own reflection faintly visible against the backdrop of his shadowy form. "What are you saying? That you're here because of me?"

My voice was breathy, incredulous. "I never asked for this, you hear me? I don't even know you, and you don't know me!"

Silence.

"And if you think this is a good idea—some twisted way to get to know me—" I let out a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Then you're as delusional as you are disgusting!"

The words came out scorching, meant to hit deep, meant to do something

But no shift. No reaction.

He just stood there, impassive as ever, like I hadn't just hurled insult after insult at his face.

A sickening realization crept up my spine

He doesn't care.

Not about my words. Not about my anger. Not about the ugly truths I spat at him

It was like throwing punches into the void. Like screaming into an abyss that only swallowed everything whole.

And suddenly, that realization made me furious.

How could anyone stand there, entirely unaffected, while being ripped into with insults? Even the most thick-skinned asshole on the planet would have some reaction—irritation, offense, anything.

For a fleeting moment, I was weirdly reminded of Rome Draken- Draken would have had a fucking aneurysm by now

The guy had a temper shorter than a wick on a cheap candle. It took one mildly condescending remark for him to go ballistic. 

And yet, this man? This thing? I let out a bitter scoff, rubbing a hand down my face. No self-preservation, no dignity, no fucking shame whatsoever. No pride to wound.

I could stand here, screaming at him until my throat went raw, and he wouldn't flinch. Hell, I could probably call his whole bloodline a bunch of demented stalkers and—

A terrifying thought struck me cold.

What if he likes this?

What if this was what he wanted? To see me unhinged, unraveling? To make me spiral, to drink in every second of my frustration, my helplessness—

I swallowed, my stomach twisting.

I had spent so much time thinking I was fighting back, thinking I was the one taking control for once, but now—

Now, I wasn't so sure.

No matter how hard I fought, no matter how I planned or maneuvered, it always led back to him being in control.

Him steering the game. Him standing there, unfazed, while I burned with anger that only fueled his goddamn amusement.

I wasn't winning.

I was feeding him.

The realization made my skin prickle in revulsion.

I sucked in a breath, grounding myself, trying to think through the haze of frustration tightening in my chest.

Alright, Rose. Breathe. Reset.

If I kept letting him lead, I'd never get anywhere.

I had to take a different approach.

I lifted my chin, inhaled through my nose, exhaled through my teeth, and forced my voice into a controlled, measured tone.

"Alright," I murmured, more to myself than to him. "You want to play like that?"

I squared my shoulders, met his gaze with renewed resolve.

"Fine. Let's really play."

I whipped around with determined steps, grabbing the cross from the counter and marching straight back to where he stood.

He was still keeping his distance, lingering a few feet away from the window, but I knew better than to take comfort in that.

Without hesitation, I pressed the cross against the glass.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, ever so slightly, he took a step back. Not much, not enough to suggest pain or even discomfort—but enough. Just enough to make me wonder.

Was he actually affected by it? Or was he merely humoring me? Pretending? Toying with me like he always does?

I narrowed my eyes, pressing it harder. "What? Not such a fan of this guy?" I taunted, my voice dripping with mockery as I waggled the cross in his direction.

"Well, welcome to my life. I, too, have someone in my life I'm not exactly a fan of, but I fucking tolerate it, so maybe you should fucking man up too!"

My words hung in the air, laced with venom, but he remained eerily still, watching.