Chapter 6 · The Six-Foot Rule

"Smile, Selah. Unless you want to see how fast your heart stops when I step outside this circle."

Kane’s hand was clamped around my waist, pulling me so tight against his side that I could feel the steady, arrogant thrum of his heart through the expensive fabric of his suit. We were standing in the center of a glittering gala ballroom, surrounded by the kind of people who would have lynched me if they knew I was the 'traitor' Enforcer they’d been spitting on for months.

"Get your hand off me," I hissed, my voice barely a whisper. I tried to edge away, but the moment I hit the six-foot mark, a sharp, electric jolt snapped through my chest. It felt like a hot needle threading through my ribs, dragging me back toward him.

Kane didn't even flinch. He just tightened his grip, his fingers digging into my hip. "The bond doesn't care about your personal space, sweetheart. Now, look at the camera and pretend you don't want to murder me."

Flashbulbs popped. A swarm of reporters and socialites circled us like sharks.