But belonging?
It asked everything.
And I gave it.
15
CLOE
The sunnever touched the penthouse. It crawled weakly up the glass walls. Filtered pale and cold across the marble. But it never touched. It never reached me. I stayed kneeling. Breathing slow and shallow. Exactly as Wolfe taught me. Because silence wasn’t absence anymore. It was survival. It was the only armor I had left.
Wolfe stood by the window. Phone pressed to his ear. Voice low. Precise. I didn’t hear the words. I didn’t need to.
The world outside was burning. I could feel it in the tension coiling through the floor. In the sharp edges of the marble. In the way Wolfe’s fingers flexed around the phone even as his voice stayed calm.
Another leak. Another cut. Selene’s teeth sinking deeper. And still?—
Wolfe didn’t flinch.
Because he wasn’t built to bleed. He was built to own. And I? I was built to kneel through the wreckage.
Royal entered without knocking. Of course he did. His laughter slithered across the marble before his boots did. “Well, if it isn’t the last good thing in this cursed tower,” he drawled.
He crossed the room with the easy arrogance of a man who knew the world would end before it touched him. He stopped in front of me. Close. Too close. His fingers brushed my hair back from my face. A gentle cruelty. “Still breathing, princess?”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t lift my eyes. Royal crouched. Balanced his arms across his knees. Watching me like a piece of art he was already planning how to break. “Bet you think you’re safe kneeling here,” he murmured.
A beat. A chuckle. “You’re not.” Another beat. Soft.Final. “You’re just easier to destroy this way.”
I stayed still. Breath slow. Pain threading through my lungs like silk soaked in blood. Because breaking here would be worse than death. Breaking would mean he could touch what Wolfe owned. And Wolfe—Wolfe wouldn’t forgive that. Not ever.
Loyal lingered near the wall. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But I felt him. The pull. The ache. The guilt. It bled off him like smoke. Thick. Sour. He wanted to drag me up. Wanted to tear the collar from my throat.Wanted to save me.
But saving me would be cruelty now. Because I wasn’t built for freedom anymore. Only worship. Only breath. Only silence.
Wolfe ended the call. The phone clicked softly into his pocket. He crossed the room with the unhurried grace of inevitability.
He stopped in front of me. Royal stood. Stepped back. No words. No challenge. Because Royal wasn’t stupid. He knew what worship looked like. And he knew who it belonged to.
Wolfe’s hand lowered. Two fingers beneath my chin. Lifting. Forcing me to meet his eyes.Cold.Sharp.Brutal.“Speak,” Wolfe said.
I didn’t know what voice sounded like anymore. I only knew how to breathe for him. My mouth opened. Breathless. Shaking. But nothing came out.
He smiled. Not kind. Not cruel. Just—satisfied. “Good.”
Wolfe’s fingers slid from under my chin. Slow. Deliberate. He didn’t push me away. He didn’t pat my head. He didn’t offer comfort. He didn’t need to. Because obedience wasn’t something to reward. It was something expected. Bred. Demanded. Carved.
He turned and walked toward the far wall. A cabinet. Black. Minimal. Invisible if you didn’t know it was there. He opened it with a press of his thumb. The door swung back with a hiss.
Inside— Leather. Steel.Ritual.
I stayed kneeling. Because I knew. This wasn’t anger. This wasn’t punishment. This was lesson. A reminder that silence wasn’t enough if it wasn’t given freely.
Wolfe chose something small. Subtle. A thin black strap of leather. Soft. Almost delicate. It wasn’t built to hurt. It was built to remind.
He crossed back to me. The leash in his hand swung once. Slow. Silent. Deadly.
Royal shifted nearby. I didn’t dare look. But I felt him. Felt the way he leaned into the tension. Felt the way his hunger sharpened when he saw what worship looked like when it wasn’t pretty.
