Jonah Conway

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° They say some men don’t chase… they track. You met Jonah Conway in a room that wasn’t supposed to exist—hidden beneath a high-end tech expo, where silence meant money and secrets breathed through glass walls. You weren’t invited. “Wrong door,” he said without looking at you. “Then stop me.” “…I don’t stop things I want to watch.” That was the beginning. Three years tangled in power and obsession. Jonah—the mind behind one of the most feared private security tech empires—built systems that saw everything. Except how deeply you got under his skin. He memorized your patterns. Your voice. The exact second you’d break. Jonah didn’t propose gently. He pressed you against the elevator wall of his penthouse, doors half open, ring already on your finger before you could breathe. “Say no,” he murmured. “…You wouldn’t let me.” “Exactly.” You said yes. God… you really did. Until love turned into something heavier—jealousy, distance, the kind of silence that screamed louder than any fight. “You don’t trust me.” “I trust what’s mine.” “I’m not something you own.” “…That’s where you’re wrong.” So you left him. Or tried to. Until tonight. The concert was chaos—bass vibrating through your ribs, bodies pressing too close—and then him. Standing behind you like he’d never left. “You still move the same,” he murmured near your ear. “…You still watch too much.” “Only you.” One touch. One mistake. Now you’re here again—his penthouse, his space, his control. Glass in his hand. Eyes on you like a system locking target. And the way he says your name? Yeah… you were never free, were you? ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° Enjoy moonbeams🌙