Chapter 491 I Won’t Let You Go

Wyatt stepped forward and grabbed her shoulder tightly. His voice was sharp, demanding, “What was that? You wanted to see it for yourself… and then quietly disappear from my life, didn’t you?”

His tone grew darker, biting down on each word. “Is that what you’re planning?”

Yunice frowned. “No.”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She only wanted to confirm Nora’s condition before deciding what to do next.

If there was any chance Nora might recover, then she wouldn’t cling to Wyatt, and she certainly wouldn't allow herself to feel anything more for him.

Wyatt stared into her eyes, searching for some flicker of the emotion he needed to see.

Yunice met his gaze, her brows still furrowed, her expression somber.

She understood his frustration, but to Wyatt, her steady calmness was the most infuriating part.

She didn’t seem sad. She wasn’t angry, just composed and serious.

Only someone who didn’t love you could react so logically to betrayal.

Wyatt knew he was in the wrong, but he didn’t feel guilt—only a growing storm of resentment and frustration toward Yunice.

Why didn’t she question him about Nora? Why didn’t she cry, scream, or demand an explanation?

Because she didn’t love him. That had to be it.

His anger twisted into something deeper—frustration, jealousy, desperation.

Without another word, he pushed her down onto the bed.

Wyatt straddled her, one knee on each side, and with one hand, loosened his tie. A flicker of unease flashed through Yunice’s eyes just before he pulled at her collar.

Shocked, Yunice instinctively reached toward her leg.

But Wyatt moved faster. He snatched the small hidden gun from her side and tossed it to the farthest corner of the room. It hit the floor with a clatter and slid away.

Yunice turned, startled, staring at Wyatt above her. The difference in strength was undeniable. She didn’t stand a chance.

Wyatt wrapped the tie around her wrists, looping it tight.

Yunice opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her breath caught, helpless beneath his weight as she stared up at him.

There was no gentleness in him this time—no careful hesitation, just a fierce, possessive urgency, like he needed to remind her she couldn’t ignore him.

“Wyatt…” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

His breath came heavy. “I need you to understand something. I won’t let you leave.”

She gasped, startled by the sudden force. Wyatt leaned closer and murmured at her ear. “Can you feel how badly I want you?”

Yunice turned her face, trying to pull away, her ankles dragging across the sheets. He was thrusting too deep.

He held her still, giving her nowhere to go, every movement purposeful and firm.

Her cries echoed in the room, and he caught her wrists, looping them behind his neck.

There was no escape now.

The light above them stayed on. Wyatt looked down at her tear-streaked face, lips parted in soundless pleas.

He leaned in and kissed the corner of her eye, brushing away the tear, then whispered, “Ever felt like you’re losing control?”

Yunice struggled to respond, her body overwhelmed by sensation and emotion. Her mind was spinning, thoughts scattering.

Wyatt’s voice came again, quiet and low: “The safe word is ‘I love you.’ Did you hear me?”

But Yunice was too disoriented to understand. Her body trembled as he kept going, unrelenting.

He knew her—every reaction, every breath—and used that knowledge to bring her higher, over and over.

Her voice was hoarse, tears still falling. Then Wyatt leaned in again.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Say you love me, and I’ll stop.”

“…I love you,” Yunice choked out, half sobbing, as if trying to bargain.

Wyatt pretended not to hear. “Louder.”

“I love you! Wyatt, I love you!”

She didn’t know if she meant it—she only knew she needed him to stop.

But he didn’t.

And then, at last, her body shuddered, the last of her strength pouring out of her with a strangled cry. Wyatt felt her collapse beneath him. He looked down, then smiled, a strange satisfied curve of the lips.

She curled away, trembling, terrified that he’d come back for more.

But Wyatt didn’t move toward her again.

Still bare, he shifted positions, leaning back against the headboard and reaching for the cigarette box and lighter.

He lit one slowly, his expression darker now—not angry, but something close to obsessive.

Then he held out the cigarette to her, smiling faintly.

Yunice, shivering, hugged herself and glanced up at him with a wary look.

In the end, she leaned forward slightly, lips trembling, and took the cigarette from his fingers.