“Then what’s the problem?” I asked incredulously.
Hudson crouched slowly in front of the glass, bringing himself level with me. “The problem,” he said softly, “is that you look like you’re asking to be bent over and railed in the middle of the club.”
I stared at him. “You didn’t have an issue with that before I left.”
“No, pup. The issue is that you let some other man touch you and flirt with youwhilelooking like that.”
“I didn’tletanything happen,” I said, forcing calm into my tone. “I talked. I laughed once. I accepted a drink. That’s normal behavior. What was I supposed to do? Throw the drink in his face?”
Hudson’s lips twitched despite the tension. He leaned closer to the glass, fingertips brushing it lightly, almost thoughtfully, tracing the outline of my hand. “That would’ve been a start.” He slowly stood.
“You weren’t even there,” I protested.
“You really thought we would let you go out without supervision?” Hayes asked. “We heard and saw every little thing.”
The wheels in my brain churned. “How?! No, fuck, that doesn’t even matter right now.” I pushed to my feet, refusing to stay small and seated while they towered over me. I dragged my hands down my face. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me out this instant.”
Silence.
That dangerous, synchronized silence.
Hudson’s fingers tapped the glass once. “Do you remember your first night in there?”
My stomach twisted. “Of course I do.”
Hayes’s gaze flicked down my body slowly, assessing. “I’m tempted to drug you in order to recreate it.”
A chill slid down my spine, and I stumbled back from the glass. “Don’t you dare! I’m your husband.”
“Fine. No drugs, but you still need to face consequences.”
I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “Why? I didn’t do anything,” I hissed.
“You enjoyed it,” Hayes said.
I opened my mouth to deny it—and hesitated.
Because I had enjoyed it. Not the man. Not the flirting. But the feeling of being wanted without fear. Of being seen as just… some guy at a club. Not someone owned. Not someone watched.
Hudson noticed the hesitation immediately and rested his palm flat against the glass. I could feel the faint vibration through it, as if the room itself were breathing with him.
“You shouldn’t have hesitated, Oliver,” he said, deathly calm.
My arms erupted in goosebumps. “I just liked the attention. There wasn’t anything else to it, I promise.” I closed my eyes briefly, colors bursting under my lids from how tightly I squeezed them shut. Breathed in. Out. When I looked at themagain, my voice was quieter, but no less firm. “I love you. Both of you. You know I would never leave you. Please, just let me out…”
Hudson glanced at Hayes. Something passed between them—silent, complex, and dangerous. Speaking without words in the strange way twins do.
Then, Hudson looked back at me, studying me carefully as he said, “You need to be reeducated.”
“What? What does that mean?” I questioned nervously, gaze darting between the two of them.
Hayes was the one to answer. “You’ll see.”
It wasn’t until several hours had passed that I started to understand.
I must have dozed off at some point, exhaustion from the argument and the lingering buzz of alcohol pulling me under. The basement’s eerie hum was the only sound, a constant reminder of my confinement. My head jerked up at the heavy thud of the door opening upstairs, followed by footsteps descending the stairs.
Hayes and Hudson soon appeared in the doorway, each gripping one end of a large box that strained even their powerful arms. The package was bulky, taped shut, and obviously heavy. I pressed my palms against the glass, peering through the dim light. Hudson’s eyes locked on mine first, a smirk curling his lips as he adjusted his hold. Hayes glanced over, his expression unreadable, but I knew that look.
