Carefully, methodically preparing her body to respond to me so I can demonstrate my control in front of the Consortium's inner circle in three weeks.
Everything she thinks I've been doing?
I have been doing exactly that.
And she figured it out.
So she ran.
Ran rather than let me turn her into a performing animal for the entertainment of men who see women as property.
Can I even blame her for that?
Yes.
Yes, I fucking can.
Because I've been patient. Been kind. Been giving her choices and pleasure and everything she needed.
The fact that it serves my purposes doesn't negate any of that.
Doesn't mean she had the right to run.
Doesn't mean I'm letting her go.
"Sir?" Callum is watching me carefully, the way he does when he thinks I might do something reckless. "What are your orders?"
"I'm going after her myself. Now."
"Sir, the search teams are trained for this kind of?—"
"I don't care. She's my responsibility. My... my acquisition. And I'm going to be the one who finds her and brings her back."
"Let me at least send a team with you for?—"
"No. This is between Eden and me. The teams can continue their grid search, but I'm tracking her myself. Get me everything I asked for. And add emergency food, water purification tablets, a fire starter kit—everything she might need when I find her."
When. Not if.
When.
Because failure isn't an option.
Callum doesn't argue further, just nods and disappears.
I pull up the topographical map on my laptop.
Study the terrain northwest of the estate.
Dense forest for the first three miles.
Creek running roughly parallel to her trajectory.
Some game trails but nothing maintained.
Rough, difficult terrain–especially for someone unfamiliar with wilderness navigation.
And about four miles out, marked on the map in faded print that suggests the landmark is old?—
