They didn’t understand. They didn’t need to. Only Wolfe did. Only I did. Only the leash understood what it meant to survive when everything else was dead.
The marble gleamed under my knees. The leash hung slack from Wolfe’s hand. Casual. Effortless. Like he didn’t even need to pull anymore. Like I was already trained to follow the gravity of him without resistance.
Because I was. I stayed kneeling at his feet. Breathing carefully. Existing only inside the boundaries he allowed.
The world spun around us. Diamonds glittered. Laughter scraped. Whispers curdled like smoke. But none of it mattered. Because Wolfe’s silence pressed against my ribs heavier than the music. Because the leash around my throat pulsed in time with the beat of my heart. Because belonging had devoured survival.
A woman approached. I didn’t see her face. Only the hem of a gold dress. Only the hesitation in her step. Only the clench of the clutch purse in her hand.
She stopped three feet away. Close enough to smell the fear bleeding off her. Perfume sharp and desperate.
“You don’t have to kneel,” she said.
Soft.
Pitying.
Like she thought she was saving me. Like she thought I wanted saving.
The woman reached for me. I felt the shift in the air. The tremble in her fingers.
And Wolfe?—
Wolfe moved.
Not violent. Not rushed. He simply shifted the leash. Tightened it. The chain snapped taut. Not yanking me. Not hurting. Just claiming.
The sound wasn’t loud. But it echoed like scripture. Like the final page of a prayer. Just reminding. I exhaled.
Soft.
Silent.
Obedient.
The woman’s hand froze mid-air. Her fingers trembling. Her eyes flicked from me to Wolfe. She saw it then. The leash. The worship. Thechoice. And her mouth closed with a soft, horrified sound. Because she finally understood. I wasn’t kneeling because I was broken. I was kneeling because I chose to. Because I wanted to. Because I needed to. Because standing would hurt worse than any collar ever could.
Wolfe looked at her once. Sharp. Cold. And she stumbled back. Not touching me. Not daring. Because he didn’t need to raise his voice. Didn’t need to lift a hand. His silence screamed louder than any command.
The woman turned. Fled into the crowd. Her heels clicking sharp against the marble. The whispers swallowed her whole. The ballroom swallowed me whole.
And Wolfe?
Wolfe never loosened the leash. Because he didn’t need to. Because I would stay here. Breathing. Kneeling. Belonging. Exactly where he left me. Exactly where I asked to be without ever speaking.
17
BARRON
LetWolfe leash her and call it obedience. All I saw was a funeral procession for the girl who used to be family.
A nerve twitched at my temple as he tightened the leash around her throat. Cloe didn’t flinch. Her knees bled darker against the marble, from red to rust to sacrifice. That was enough.
I turned. Took the mezzanine stairs two at a time, boots slamming hard enough to make the glass railings tremble.
Up here, no one spoke to me. They knew better.
She wasn’t supposed to break for him. Not like that. Not this fast. My pulse roared. I reached up, rubbing the back of my neck. She was supposed to wait.
