Someone laughed behind a raised glass. “Maybe the sister was just training her replacement.”
I didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. The collar bit into my throat. A perfect noose I had fastened myself.
Loyal shifted from the wall. The glass in his hand cracked softly between his fingers.
Royal didn’t laugh this time. He said nothing. Just sipped from his flute and stared at me. Like he wasn’t sure what version of me he was looking at anymore. Like maybe he liked this one better.
Wolfe returned then. He didn’t glance at the phones. Didn’t ask what happened. He just looked at me.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
I kneltharder.
Pain lanced through my thighs.
My knees screamed against the marble.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Because I knew what that look meant now. Because even if the world started choking on the name I used to wear?—
Wolfe wouldn’t let me run.
And I didn’t want to.
Because the silence between his glances was the only place left that still felt like air. And if Selene wanted to strip me bare?—
She would have to do it while I knelt.
While I obeyed.
While I belonged.
Because obedience wasn’t surrender anymore. It was survival carved into loyalty. And that meant he’d never lose me. Not even when I was already gone.
13
CLOE
The ballroom fractured around me.Not with screams. Not with blood. With silence. The kind of silence that folds in on itself. The kind that tastes like old gold and new ruin.
Barron was the first to leave. No announcement. No words. Just a shift in the corner of my vision. A shadow peeling itself away from marble and glass. He didn’t look at Wolfe. Didn’t look at Royal. Didn’t look at Loyal. He certainly didn’t look at me. He just walked away.
And the room exhaled.
Slow.
Terrified.
Because if Barron Lawlor could fall—if the king could burn his crown and not even glance back—what hope was there for any of them?
None.
