“It’s the beginning.”
I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t touch her. Didn’t soothe. Just let the words settle into the empty places I had carved into her. Then—even softer, a whisper built for no one but her.“You haven’t even started bleeding for me yet.”
She shuddered. A full-body crack that she tried and failed to hide.
I stood. Looked down at her. At the bruises. At the trembling. At the stillness.
And knew…
She would never escape now.
Because she wouldn’t want to.
Not really.
Not once she understood the cost of being seen.
I turned. Walked toward the door. Didn’t look back. Because she would still be kneeling when I returned. Exactly where she belonged. Exactly where she asked to be. Even if she never said the words.
9
CLOE
The mat wascold under my knees. Not freezing. Just…enough. Enough to bite. Enough to remind me where I was.What I was.
The camera blinked red above me. Steady. Unforgiving. I didn’t look at it. I didn’t look anywhere. My head stayed bowed. My hands stayed locked behind my back. My breath stayed shallow. Because moving wasn’t survival here. Stillness was. Obedience was.
I heard the door click shut. Not hard. Not loud. Just final. Wolfe was gone. And still—I stayed kneeling. Because I didn’t know if moving would bring him back. Or worse—bring him closer.
The silence thickened. Pressed down against the bruises on my ribs. Sank into the raw places under my skin. Coiled around the base of my throat where the collar sat.
Tight.
Cool.
Unyielding.
I shifted once. A tremor. Not disobedience. Not yet. Just a breath too deep. A muscle clenching without permission.
The mat whispered under me. Footsteps. Soft. Measured. I didn’t lift my head. But I knew.
Royal.His scent hit first—sharp, expensive cologne tangled with something meaner. Something hotter.
“Still breathing, sweetheart?”
The words brushed over my skin. Teasing. Mocking. I flinched inside myself. Tiny. Invisible. Not enough to break posture. Not enough to give him more.
Royal circled me once. Boots slow against the padded floor. The heat of him brushing against my bare shoulders. He didn’t touch me. Not yet. Just watched. Waiting. For what—I didn’t know.
Or maybe I did.
Maybe I always had.
“Bet you’re wondering what comes next,” he murmured.
I stayed still. My breath caught high in my throat. Because I was wondering. Because wondering was worse than knowing.
Royal stopped in front of me. Close.Too close.
