"Where are we going, Sebastian?" I ask after a minute. I miss the feel of his touch already, the roughness of his skin on mine, his lips on mine.

He doesn't look at me. "We're going nowhere," he says. Then, under his breath, he repeats it: "nowhere."

I open my mouth to argue, but I no longer even have the energy to. So I just stare at him as the gray sky melts into nighttime, minutes into hours. Eventually, a shadow crosses his face, covering up the hard determination in his eyes. I listen to the sound of the road below us and the hum of the tires moving as we drive for hours and hours on end. As we move further away from the safe house, the streets start getting narrower and less like streets, mostly with cracked pavement and no cars driving in them. The only people using them wear dark baseball caps and smoke cigarettes. The houses in the neighborhood get older and more beat-up, and we start getting looks from idle neighbors as we drive deeper. I want to ask Sebastian where this place is, but I know he won't tell me. I sit there waiting, not knowing else to do, until we finally pull to a stop in front of an aging, peeling-blue-painted house at the end of the neighborhood.

Sebastian gets out immediately and slams the door behind him. I follow his lead. The air is cold out here, sending shivers up my spine, and the musty scent of smoke and rotted wood fills the air.

He doesn't look back at me as he walks right up into the house, kicks open the door, and steps inside. I quickly follow him, glancing one last time at the smoking men who are drifting closer and closer to me, and I slam the door behind me--just to be safe.

The house is cold and rickety and dark, with old pictures covering the walls and a wood floor torn up from age. Dust hangs in the air, making me cough as soon as I'm inside, and I follow Sebastian over to an old living room with a fading couch and broken rocking chair. He reaches into a box beside the chair and pulls something out--a key of some sort, it looks like. I watch him carefully as he turns back to me. His face is hard and emotionless, and something about him is serious, almost too serious.

"Sebastian," I ask. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just closes the box, holds tight to the key, and then walks over to me. Finally, two words slip out of his mouth. "Saving you," Sebastian mutters under his breath. "I'm saving you, angel."

He brushes past me and makes his way to the kitchen, opening a rusted fridge and searching for something. His movements are urgent, determined. "What do you mean?" I ask, following him. I'm not going to back down. Not again.

Sebastian reaches for something in the refrigerator. "You know what I mean," he says, pulling out a plate of what looks like a sandwich. Then he washes his hands, slips the sandwich onto a fresh plate, adds some tomatoes to the side, and turns back around. For one long second, his eyes lock with mine. His are piercing and intense, hurt and angry and protective all at once, needing to keep me safe. I raise my chin, standing defiantly. "Tell me."

"You really want to know?" He takes a step toward me. His suit is tattered from the shooting, and it smells strongly of gunpowder.

"Yes."

"Well, here you have it: I'm done. Fucking done," he says under his breath, grabbing the food and key. "I'm not taking any risks on you. You're mine. You're mine and you aren't ever leaving my sight until I know for sure that you are safe."

He moves past me to the basement door, unlocks it with his key, then swings it open and motions for me to follow him. I hesitate, but obey.

Sebastian leads me down the creaking stairs to an old, cob-web-ridden basement. He turns on a dim light above me, illuminating the tiny space. There is nothing but a broken washing machine and a bed in the corner of the basement, and it looks like it's been abandoned for years. Sebastian reaches toward a box beside the washer, pulls out a blue blanket, and spreads it across the bed. Then he adds a pillow to the top and points at the edge.

"Sit," he says to me. I do.

He leans over me as I sit on the edge of the surprisingly soft bed, his cleanly-shaven face and jaw and perfectly kissable lips hovering right above mine. He's still wearing his business and black bowtie, and he looks all too perfect in it.

I can't help but notice the hardness beneath his torso, the way his thighs are pressed right above mine, and suddenly I want to be back to the night before. I want to feel him inside of me again, feel him own me. I want Sebastian, want him bad.

"Angel," he says after a minute, his voice hard and unwavering. "You know me. I'm not all about whips and chains. I don't want to feed off of your pain. I just want you. All of you. I want you everywhere, don't you see? I want to fuck you, to touch you, to own you. I don't give a shit about anything else but you and me. I'm going to do whatever it takes to save you, to keep you mine, because I care too much to see you get hurt, by Marco or otherwise. I'm trying to save you, I told you. I'm trying to keep them from getting to you." His eyes are a fierce blue, his jaw thick and tense. I can feel his passion in his every word, the lust and desire and… love?... that pours out of him. His voice gets fiercer as he continues. "But you almost died in there! You almost fucking died on me!" he says, raising his voice to a yell. "I've lost so many people. I've lost so many that I can't count them all, but I just know that I'm not losing anyone else. I'm not losing you, angel!" he shouts, eyes full of fire. "I'm not ever losing you. Let Marco and his team blow me to bits if that's what it means. But as long as I'm alive, I will never, ever let them, or anyone, touch you. Understand?"

The basement is silent as soon as he finishes speaking, his words an echo throughout the room, and I just swallow, staring back at him. I don't know what to say. My heart has started pounding. I'm not even going to lie: I feel scared. Terrified, really, by the intensity and determination in Sebastian's words. But a part of my heart aches, knows the pain he is going through and wants nothing more than to cure him. A part of me loves him despite his flaws, but knows I can't ever have him.

"I understand, Sebastian," I whisper, meaning it. Then, "I want you too."

Sebastian stands up, adjusts his suit. His jaw is still thick with tension, and his are narrowed, the anger not leaving from before. "But you can't have me. Because if I let you have me anymore than I already have, then that means there is no turning back for us. I already need you too much. It only makes things worse for you to need me back."

I look down at my feet. "Then it's already too late," I say quietly.

Sebastian freezes. His eyes turn back to me, still burning and passionate. "Don't say that," he hisses. "Don’t fucking say that! It's not too late. I can't save you if you need me like I need you, and I am going to save you. No matter what. Okay?" he says fiercely.

My heart thrums in my chest. Heat pulses between us and I can feel the tension in the air, the fire in each of his words and his breaths and his closeness to me. Everything about Sebastian sends tingles throughout my body, but he also scares me, unnerves me, thrills me. "Okay," I say.

Sebastian doesn't back down. "Okay, what?" he demands.

"Okay," I say quietly. "Okay, I won't fall for you."

He nods sadly then, and the ferocity in him is gone. He reaches out and hands me the sandwich he made. "Take this." Then he leaves a glass of water by the bed. "In case you get thirsty," he says.