He holds it out to me and I snatch it from his hands, scanning the pages.
It's... thorough.Disturbinglythorough.
Sexual availability. Scheduling. Punishments for disobedience that range from mild to spanking and other things that make me do a double take.
"You're sick," I tell him, but my voice lacks conviction because some twisted part of me is almost impressed by the detail. I find myself laughing. "All of you."
Tank's eyes flick to the floor and I swear those huge shoulders sag ever so slightly.
"Yep." Kade doesn't even try to deny it. "But we're your only option, so..." He produces a pen from his pocket, holding it out to me. "Sign on the dotted line, Princess. Or fuck off forever and see if you can rope some Ivy League sucker into killing Daddy Dearest for you. See if I give a shit."
My hand shakes as I take the pen. This is insane. I'm literally signing my life away to my childhood friends turned vigilante psychopaths.
It occurs to me one last time that I could tell them the truth. Beg for their help instead of buying it. But I'd rather be their property than their charity case. At least this way, it's a simple transaction.
This way, I'm not just another broken bird needing to be rescued.
And in the only way that matters right now, this actually preserves what little autonomy I've eked out for myself.
I press the pen to paper before I can second-guess it.
Eleanor Waterson.
Such a simple signature for such amonumentallyfucked up decision.
"There." I fling the pen back at him, and he catches it easily. "Happy now?"
"Ec-fucking-static. Congrats on your upcoming riches." He folds the contract and hands it back to Cyrus, who files it away like we just closed a fucking real estate deal. "Jinx?"
Jinx straightens in his chair, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a key—just a regular house key on a simple ring—and holds it out to me. I reach for it, and our fingers brush. But it's not accidental. He holds on a beat too long, his thumb stroking across my knuckles in a gesture so gentle it makes my throat tight.
He used to braid my hair with these hands forhours.
Those blue eyes meet mine, and there's definitely something there. A hint of the old Jinx that gives me the shred of hope I need to not fall apart right now in front of them.
"What's this?" I ask, my voice rough.
"The key to your new home away from home," Kade says, drawing my attention back to him. "It's a house three blocks from your campus. Nice neighborhood, very respectable.Verygentrified.”
They bought a fucking house for this?
"I have a dorm?—"
"Had. Past tense," Kade corrects me, holding up his left hand.
A mottled pink and white burn scar I hadn't noticed before wraps around his forearm and palm like a serpent. My mouth goes dry briefly at the sight of it. Maybe he's still a pyromaniac after all these years.
"You'll keep up appearances during the day," Kade continues. "Go to classes, maintain your perfect GPA, play the senator's good little daughter. But the second your last class ends, you come home.Ourhome."
"That's—"
"Non-negotiable." He stands, and suddenly he's in my space, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "You have a curfew now, Princess. Six PM on school nights. Weekends are ours. Any exceptions go through me first. Any events, galas, political bullshit—you clear those with me directly. You don't goanywherewithout permission."
"Fuck, Kade. I'm not a child."
Not anymore,my miserably nostalgic brain supplies helpfully.
"No. You'repropertyfor the next three hundred and sixty five days."
