I took the handkerchief, but instead of using it, I dropped it on the floor and glared at him. Dominic’s lip curled into the ghost of a smile.
“She’s spirited, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But you’ll have to teach her to behave.”
My father smoothed a wrinkle from his suit. “I trust you’ll be able to manage.”
“Obviously.”
There was something transactional about their exchange—two men negotiating the price of livestock. It stung more than I could admit, even to myself.
My vision blurred for a moment, and I stared at my lap, the black pants and white blouse a ruined echo of the teacher I’d tried to be. The cuffs at my wrists were ringed with angry red. I pressed my hands together to stop them from shaking. The sight of my own clothes triggered a memory: the school, Karen’s smile, the way she’d lured me outside with the promise of help. I saw her face again, lips painted just so, the little upturn at the edge of her mouth when she’d smirked, “Maybe you won’t miss them too much.” Then the cold slap of metal on my wrists and Callum’s voice as the world spun out.
I blinked hard, shoving the memory aside.
“Get up,” my father hissed. He didn’t wait for me to comply. He hauled me upright again, setting me on my feet. My knees wobbled, but he kept his grip tight enough to keep me vertical.
“We have a schedule to keep,” he said. “You will walk, or I will make you.”
I could barely stand, but I forced my legs to move, one after the other, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. The hall beyond the bedroom was a gauntlet of expensive wallpaper and old portraits, every face in the oil paintings scowling down at me like I’d interrupted a dinner party. The carpet was so thick I could feel my feet sink in with every step.
Dominic led the way, his stride unhurried. Behind me, Callum stalked in silence, every so often tapping the back of my knee with his boot when I slowed.
We arrived at a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Dominic opened them with a flourish, revealing an office bigger than most apartments. The ceiling soared overhead. Walls were lined with leather-bound books and the heads of animals I’d never seen in the wild. There was a desk the size of a casket in the center, and behind it, a pair of high-backed chairs.
My father shoved me toward the desk. “Sit,” he said. I did, because the alternative was falling face-first onto the marble floor.
The room closed around me. The walls pressed in; heat rising off my skin as if I were about to ignite.
Dominic and my father spoke in low voices, the words impossible to catch. Callum leaned against a window, arms folded, a wolfish smirk on his face. The three of them looked at me like a problem, not a person.
I let my hands rest on the desk, fingers spread wide, every muscle trembling with exhaustion and rage. I tried not to think about the fact that there was no escape; not from this room, not from this house, not from this life.
But I kept my head high, eyes level, daring any of them to look away first.
When Dominic finally turned to me, his gaze was hungry and cold. “You’ll want to hear what happens next,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I just stared, silent and unbroken, waiting for the next act of cruelty to begin.
Dominic didn’t bother with a preamble. He perched himself on the edge of his desk, legs crossed at the ankle, his hands folded with an affectation of patience. The gold cufflinks at his wrists caught the office’s dim, deliberate lighting and threw it back in sharp daggers, little glints of power in a room built to remind you who ruled here. Even the chairs had more gilt than a cathedral.
He fixed me with a look somewhere between pity and contempt. “Here is the situation, Savannah. The Council does not acknowledge your mating to that—” he paused, smirked, “creature from Iron Valor. They say your father failed to approve the pairing, and that your so-called mate did not follow proper protocol. Even if it were valid, you know what they say about bonds formed in captivity or under stress—they’re rarely legitimate.”
He let this hang for a moment, like a prosecutor watching a witness crumble. “Tomorrow, you will be taken to Chicago. At Council headquarters, your supposed ‘fated bond’ will be tested. If it fails, the mate mark is to be burned off. You will then be transferred to me, where you belong. The marriage will take place immediately. If you resist, or cause a scene, the Council will not be as gentle as your father has been.”
He glanced at Declan, whose face was impassive but satisfied, then at Callum, who radiated malice from his station at the far wall.
The words felt like they’d been drilled into my skull; every syllable etched in by the cold certainty of men who’d done this before, who’d broken women and called it tradition.
“What if the bond is real?” I said. My voice was so raw I barely recognized it. “What if I pass their test?”
Dominic’s mouth twitched. “They have never found one of these ‘fated’ bonds outside of Council-blessed marriages. But suppose you pass—then you return to your mate, and your family’s name is forever stained.” He spat the words with venom. “But you won’t pass. You’ll be proven a liar, just like others before you.”
I wanted to scream. Instead, I sat rigid, shoulders back, eyes burning holes through the rug beneath my feet. My wrists tingled where the silver had been, and my neck pulsed with a phantom ache at the thought of what they would do to my mate mark.
Declan spoke up, his voice a precise instrument. “You will not shame us, Savannah. I’ve tolerated your defiance because I believed you would come to your senses. This is your final chance to prove you are not a mistake.”
Callum snorted. “She’s nothing but a mistake. We should’ve taken care of her the moment she started with her little rebellion.”
Dominic ignored him, eyes only for me. “Drink some water. Get yourself cleaned up. Tomorrow is a big day.”
