The black sedan rolled slowly to a stop beside her. The window slid down, revealing a face carved from ice.
In an instant, Winifred Dawson’s back stiffened, her entire body plunging into a freezing abyss. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her legs had turned to jelly. She couldn’t even twitch a toe, let alone flee.
Why was she so terrified?
She had spent days steeling herself, convincing herself she could face Leland Burns calmly and survive these hundred days. As long as he didn’t kill her or deliberately target Garrison Reeves, she could endure anything.
She had thought she wouldn’t be as afraid of him this time.
She was wrong.
The moment she saw him, her first impulse was still to escape.
And the timing couldn’t have been worse-Garrison had just kissed her goodbye before dropping her off.
Had Leland seen it?
A warning bell clanged in her mind, dredging up his past threats.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed. She clung to that sliver of hope. After all, they had been inside the car-it wasn’t so easy to spot.
Leland’s expression was glacial, his entire demeanor screaming stay away. Winifred stood frozen, staring at him until impatience flickered in his eyes.
“What are you standing there for? Get in. Or do I have to drag you?”
“Did you really think you could still run at this point?”
Head bowed, Winifred shuffled forward, clutching her bag like a lifeline. She reached for the passenger door-locked.
A cold scoff came from the back seat. “Still trying to avoid me? Too late for that.” He had known she was stubborn, but this was sheer delusion.
She moved to the rear door instead. Before she could touch the handle, it swung open from inside. A hand shot out, clamping around her wrist and yanking her in. She stumbled, then was hauled onto the seat, an iron grip locking around her waist, squeezing until she couldn’t move.
Leland radiated cold fury, yet his body burned against hers, searing like a brand.
Winifred’s hands pressed weakly against his chest. “L-Let me go!”
Her trembling voice only made him want to bite her. His jaw clenched, lips curling into a sneer as his gaze dropped to her mouth-red, soft, tainted. Without warning, his thumb dragged roughly over her lips, grinding back and forth like he wanted to scrub the skin raw. The friction left them swollen, crimson as overripe berries.
“Disgusting,” he spat.
The revulsion in his eyes pinned her in place. She stopped struggling, letting him wipe her mouth raw. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation-and the fear.
Her hope shattered. He had seen.
Leland was furious, his aura suffocating. Winifred shrank back, desperate to vanish.
After half a minute of brutal scrubbing, her lips throbbed. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you done?”
His hand still pressed against her mouth, now damp with her saliva. He didn’t flinch, just wiped it slowly on the corner of her lips.
“I told you not to let him touch you.”
“I know. It’s my fault this time.” She surrendered instantly.
His grip loosened, finally releasing her.
Her lips felt flayed. She didn’t need a mirror to know how red they were, stinging and swollen under his scrutiny. His stare was predatory-a wolf eyeing prey in the dark, hunger bare in his gaze.
Winifred shrank against the door, shielding her mouth. “You promised you wouldn’t force me.”
Leland scoffed. Men’s promises were worthless. He wouldn’t force her-not yet. But seeing her like this had nearly blinded him with rage. If she hadn’t been in the car, he would’ve rammed it into Garrison’s. The thought of that man’s lips on hers made him want to carve his mouth off.
Jealousy was a feral beast, clawing at his ribs. But Winifred’s terrified face made him rein it in.
She would run. She had run before. If she bolted again, he didn’t trust himself not to snap.
His fingers tightened around her wrist. “If there’s a next time, don’t blame me for breaking my word.” His gaze dropped to her lips again, itching to mark her, to brand her his so no one else would dare.
He knew it was twisted. But the obsession was bone-deep, a poison he couldn’t purge.
“There won’t be a next time,” Winifred said hastily.
Behind the wheel, Wesley watched silently. He’d heard from Henry that Winifred was alive, but seeing her now still shocked him.
Her face was unrecognizable-only Leland could’ve picked her out.
And her personality had shifted too. The old Winifred had looked down on Leland, her “fear” of him performative. Now? She trembled against the door like a cornered rabbit, sparking an urge to either protect or destroy.
She was even less likable than before. What did Leland see in her? Maybe it was the obsession of never having her that made her precious.
For her, he’d dropped everything-work, schedules, even his routines-just to come to Bankshire.
Wesley didn’t get it. As the car pulled away, he caught Winifred’s furtive glance in the rearview mirror. She quickly looked away, her hand still trapped in Leland’s grip.
She had seemed familiar. But getting caught staring made her duck her head, her palm sweating against Leland’s.
“Mr. Burns,” she ventured, “could you let go of my hand?”
He only tightened his hold. “Would you prefer I hold you instead?”
A shudder ran through her. Arguing was pointless. She gave up, letting him keep her hand locked in his.
At least that was all he did.
Leland questioned her about Garrison, and Winifred carefully skirted the truth, sticking to trivial details.
Nothing much had happened lately. She’d been “busy” with work, leaving early and returning late. She and Garrison even slept separately now. Leland had ordered her to keep her distance, but she’d already been doing that.
Something had shifted between them since Midlands-an invisible barrier, waiting to be torn.