I hadn’t been that girl in weeks. The one who wore this like it meant forever. The one who believed that if she stayed still long enough, the world would soften. Now it just felt like a brand.
I remembered the first time he gave it to me. Not in a box. Not with a question. He’d slipped it onto my finger one morning while I was half-asleep on his chest. No smile. No ceremony.
Just—
“You’ll wear this. No one else touches you now.”
And that was it.
No vow.
Justclaim.
And I nodded.
I whispered“okay.”
Because some part of me had wanted to belong to someone powerful enough to end me. Now? I didn’t even know if I’d survived that version of myself.
I looked up at him now. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t blinked. He just watched me with that same unreadable focus.
Not pride or forgiveness. Just… stillness. Like he was letting me decide how to carry the chain this time. And I slid the ring back onto my finger. Slow. Like I was preparing for weight.
My fingers curled tighter around the ring. Waiting. For what, I didn’t know. A word. A look. A nod that said I hadn’t just thrown the last of myself at his feet.
Wolfe didn’t give me any of that. He turned his back. Slow. Deliberate. Like I wasn’t even worth the weight of his eyes anymore.
The drawer clicked shut with a sound so soft it felt like a slap. And that was it. No praise. No forgiveness. No permission to breathe.
I stayed frozen. The ring biting into my palm. The cold around me thick enough to drown in. Because I was. Not because I wanted mercy. Because I was tired of pretending I didn’t already belong to him.
He said nothing. Just took the phone. Slid it back into the drawer. Closed it. And that sound—the softclickof wood against metal—felt more final than any scream could’ve been.
Wolfe didn’t say anything else. He just turned away. Left the study. Left me sitting there with the ring on my finger and the weight of it pressing into the space where my breath used to be.
I sat there for a long time. Didn’t cry. Didn’t move. The air in the room had gone stale. The light above the desk buzzed once.
I didn’t flinch. Eventually, I stood. The chair creaked behind me. I walked back to the box room. Slow. Careful. Like the floor might give out beneath me if I stepped too hard.
The room looked the same. It always did. The boxes. The folded blanket. The empty space where comfort was supposed to be.
I didn’t take the ring off. Didn’t look at it again. I lay down on top of the blanket. Didn’t pull it over me. Just stared at the ceiling. Eyes wide. Heart quiet. Hands folded over my stomach like I was waiting for something to be buried.
And when the first tear slid down my cheek, I didn’t stop it. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t pretend I was stronger than this. Because I wasn’t. Not anymore.
The light above me flickered. Once. Then stayed on. Too bright. Too quiet. And I lay there with the ring still on my finger. Not because I wanted it. But because it was all I had left.
Not freedom. Not absolution. Just the collar I chose to wear before he ever put it back on me.
8
WOLFE
She was sittingon the edge of the bed when I opened the door. The blanket swallowed her frame, too big, too heavy, pooling around her bare feet. Her knees tucked against her chest. Her head bowed low. Shoulders hunched in a way that made my teeth grind. She looked like she was trying to fold herself smaller. To take up less space. As if survival could be measured in square inches.
She didn’t look up.
Didn’t speak.
