Because survival wasn’t about escaping anymore. It was about belonging so deeply that even freedom felt like betrayal.
The elevator doors closed.
And for a second—just one—I looked at my reflection in the mirror walls.
A girl.
No.
A ghost.
Wrapped in silk.
Bound in steel.
Alive only because a man decided she could breathe.
The car pulled to a stop at the curb. The flashes started before the door even opened. Bright. Sharp. Hungry. I stayed kneeling in the backseat. Hands loose in my lap. Head bowed. Breath shallow. Because movement wasn’t survival. Stillness was. This was the last one, right? The last ball. The last display. I wanted to turn to Royal to see the glint in his eyes, not knowing if he wanted me to fail spectacularly or obey silently.
I didn’t. I held true, silent and aching on the inside. The kind of ache that’d started to settle between my thighs.
Wolfe stepped out first. Royal followed. Then Loyal. I waited. The leash stayed tight between Wolfe’s hand and my collar. Aliving thing. A heartbeat. An umbilical cord stitching me to the only oxygen left. He didn’t yank it. He didn’t command. He didn’t need to.
I moved when he shifted the leash once. A small tug. A breath. A chain snapping the spine of who I used to be. The silk of the dress clung to my ribs. My thighs. The chain glittered against my throat under the flashes. The cameras stopped clicking for a second. Just one.
Because even they didn’t know what they were seeing.
Was it scandal?
Was it shame?
Or was it something so much worse?
Something sacred. Somethingbeautiful.
It felt like hours I’d been kneeling. But I knew that wasn’t the case. Seconds felt like an eternity. Still, I stayed. The crowd murmured. Gasps low and sharp under the heavy bass of the music spilling from inside.
“Is that her?”
“She’s… collared.”
“By Lawlor. Jesus Christ.”
“Look at her.She’s not even fighting it.”
I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t dare. Because lifting my head would be rebellion. And rebellion wasn’t survival. It was death. I felt the leash tug once more. Sharp. Warning. I breathed in. Held it. Tight. The collar bit against my pulse. The silk whispered across the marble.
I followed Wolfe inside. Silent. Owned.Devastating. Exactly the way I was meant to be.
The event was smaller than the last one. More intimate. More lethal. The kinds of people who didn’t need contracts to kill you. The kinds of people who could destroy kingdoms with a signature and a smile. And I—I was led through them like a sacrifice. Not unwilling. Not unaware. But offered. Breathingslow. Breathing shallow. Because every eye dragged across my bare shoulders. Every glance snagged on the leash glinting at my throat.
Wolfe stopped near the center of the room. A low glass table gleamed under the lights. Chandeliers cast pale gold across the marble.
The music was quieter here. Violins threading through the conversation like silk soaked in secrets.
He let the leash slacken just slightly. I dropped to my knees. Smooth. Obedient. Natural. Because there was no hesitation anymore. No thinking. Only breath. Only worship. I didn’t ask what they saw when they looked at me. Because I wasn’t a woman anymore. I was ritual. Only survival carved out of the ruins of everything I used to be.
The room shifted around us. Some looked away. Unable to stomach it. Some stared. Hungry.Aroused. Terrified. Because power like this—devotion likethis—terrifies men who think survival comes from standing tall.
