It was normal.
Expected.
Owned.
Wolfe said nothing. Royal chuckled low once. A private sound. I didn’t ask why. Didn’t dare. Because tonight wasn’tabout survival. It wasn’t even about obedience. It was about proving what I was willing to bleed for. And Wolfe had already decided I would bleed beautifully. Whether anyone else saw it or not.
The car slowed. The brakes whispered. The tires crunched against the polished stone drive. I kept my eyes lowered. My hands folded tightly in my lap.
The collar pressed against the base of my throat. A pulse. A brand. A chain.
Wolfe stepped out first. I heard the hush of the door. The low murmur of event staff scrambling to greet him.
Royal followed. A soft laugh under his breath. Sin wrapped in expensive fabric. Loyal moved silently beside them.
Then—Wolfe’s voice. “Out.”
One word.
I obeyed. Not because I wanted to. Because I didn’t know how not to anymore.
The air hit me like a slap. Cool night. Colder stares. The Lawlor building loomed over the city—glass and gold and legacy sharpened to a knife.
A carpet stretched ahead of me. Velvet. Blood red. Footsteps scuffed across it. Cameras flashed. Bright. Blind. I didn’t look. I didn’t blink. I kept my eyes down, the way Wolfe ordered.
The dress whispered against my thighs as I moved. Every step careful. Controlled. Every breath catching against bruised ribs. The collar chafed when I lifted my chin just enough to follow Wolfe. The diamonds at my ears and throat sparkled under the lights.
Hiding the leash.
Barely.
Because no matter how many jewels they draped me in—the collar would never be invisible to them. Not the men whoalready owned me. Not the women who would whisper behind raised glasses.
The marble foyer gleamed under soft golden chandeliers. People clustered in careful circles. Smiling. Sipping. Measuring.
I could feel the eyes starting. Dragging over my skin. Slipping over the silk. The hush that followed us wasn’t reverence. It was calculation. Judgment.Who is she? Why is she with them? Why does she walk like she’s leashed?
Wolfe didn’t slow. Didn’t acknowledge. He moved like the world rearranged itself around him. And I—I moved behind him.
Silent.
Invisible.
Until I wasn’t.
A woman in a gold dress turned as we passed. Her gaze skimmed me. Sharp. Cool. She smiled at Wolfe. Tight. Polished. Then looked back at me. And smiled wider.
“Beautiful,” she said.
I bowed my head lower. Because she wasn’t admiring me. She was assessing me. Like women do before they take something they know they can ruin.
Because I knew she didn’t mean the dress. She meant the collar. The bruises she couldn’t see but could feel radiating off my skin. The ownership threaded into every step I took.
Royal caught the woman’s eye and smirked. Lazy. Cruel. He knew. Of course he knew. Loyal said nothing. But I felt him behind me. The slow, weighted breath he dragged through his nose. As if the sight of me—silent, bruised, collared—cost him something he didn’t have the strength to pay.
The ballroom doors opened ahead. And the world shifted again. Music. Low. Distant. Champagne glasses clinked. Laughter floated under the chandeliers like poisoned air.
Men in suits turned to look. Women in gowns glanced once. Twice. Measuring. Judging. I didn’t lift my head. Not because Iwas scared. Because I was trained. Because Wolfe hadn’t given permission to see anything beyond the carpet.
