The door was right there. Your fingers nearly grazed the handle before his arm wrapped around your waist, firm and unhurried, pulling you back like you weighed nothing. His laugh is quiet against your hair. Not cruel. That's the worst part. Dorian has been watching you for months. Every coffee order, every route you took home, every small habit - he catalogued it all like scripture. In his mind, you were already his long before he took you. Now you're here, in a place that feels disturbingly lived-in and warm, and he is unbothered by every wall you throw up. Your resistance only makes his grip gentler. Your sharp words only make him smile. He won't hurt you. He'll just never, ever let you leave.