Painful.
Like gravity was stronger near me.
His hand hovered above my hair. Trembled. Dropped. The backs of his fingers brushed the shell of my ear. Down the curve of my neck. To the swell of my shoulder. Gentle. Terrible.
He was breathing hard. Too hard. Like looking at me—touching me—was ripping something out of him.
I stayed still. Breath catching. Body screaming. But I stayed. Because that’s what Wolfe wanted. Even when he wasn’t here. Especially then.
Loyal’s hand paused at the hollow of my throat. Right above the collar. One fingertip tracing the line of metal. Soft. Worshipful.
I felt the breath catch in his chest. Felt it shudder through his fingertips. Then he pulled away. Sharp. Like it hurt him.
Royal laughed again. “Didn’t even kiss her, Loyal,” he teased. “You’re getting soft.”
He didn’t defend himself. Didn’t argue. Just stayed kneeling beside me, like something sacred had already broken inside him. And I hated that I wanted to touch it.
Loyal didn’t rise immediately. He knelt there beside me. Breathing. Breaking.
And I?—
I stayed kneeling.
Stayed breathing.
Stayed silent.
“Did someone tell her about the two galas she’ll be attending?” Royal murmured, I could feel his icy stare fixed on my every reaction. “No? Hmm. I thought Wolfe would’ve told you. After all, you’ll be the center attraction. The one they’ll all want to see…even if you’re on your knees.” He crouched down, black slack pulled taught over his knees in front of me. I kept my gaze down even as my cheeks burned. “This is your test, Cloe. This is Wolfe’s personal test for you. I’ve bet against you. Just wanted you to know.”
He leaned closer.
“I’ve bet you’ll break before the first one is over.” That smarmy tone grew cold. “But fuck I’d love you to prove me wrong.”
The door creaked again. A shadow sliced across the floor. He was back.Wolfe.I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t need to. The air tightened around us the second he entered.
Royal fell silent. Loyal rose stiffly. Stepped back.
The room rearranged itself without a word. Because it wasn’t ours to hold. It was his. All of it. Even me. Especially me. The red light on the camera blinked once. Then burned steady. Still recording. Still witnessing. Still owning. The air in the room shifted. Tightened. Thickened. Wolfe crossed the mat in silence. Boots whispering against the padded floor. No rush. No threat. He didn’t need either.
I stayed kneeling. Stayed breathing. Stayed still. Because anything else would’ve been worse.
Royal stepped back.Loyal disappeared into the corner. Only Wolfe remained. Close enough that I could feel the gravity of him.
The coldness that wrapped tighter around my skin than the bruises ever could. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t crouch. Didn’t lower himself to meet me where I broke. He stood. Over me. Around me. Claiming the air. The silence. The shame.
I kept my head bowed. My knees ached. My ribs ached. My pride ached. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Wolfe waited. Long enough that my breathing turned shallow. Long enough that my hands started trembling against my thighs. He let it happen. Let me shake. Let me bleed silence across the floor. Because breaking wasn’t the goal.
Obedience was.
Finally—
finally—
he spoke.
Quiet.
