And fuck, it’s good.
As I lie there in the circle of his arms, waiting for sleep, I’m no longer a prisoner. I’m a weapon that’s freshly forged.
My eyes drift shut. The fear that choked me in the car is gone, burned away by his touch and my father’s betrayal.
Let the Council come. Let the wolves circle.
I’m Mrs. Morozov now. I’m ready to bite back.
16
HELENA
I wake in the center of the master bed.
There’s a lingering ache in my muscles, a physical memory of being stretched and claimed. Every time I move, I feel the ghost of his hands on my hips, the pressure of his weight pressing me into the mattress.
I roll over, seeking the warmth that should be beside me, but the black sheets are cold.
Konstantin is gone.
A flush of heat travels up my neck.
Last night, I was on my knees begging the man who destroyed my life to burn me out. I gave him everything.
I let him use me like a doll against the window, and I thanked him for it. I feel a violent urge to shower. To scrub my skin until it’s raw. To wash the scent of him and the memory of my own desperate pleasure down the drain.
But then, my father’s voice cuts through the shame.
Business realignment.
My father didn't care about my innocence. Why should I cling to it?
I lie in silence, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in days, the penthouse doesn't feel like a cage. It feels like a fortress. I’m no longer the prisoner looking for a window to break. I’m the resident.
I lift my left hand into the shaft of morning light.
The sapphire ring on my finger glitters, a massive array of stones weighing my hand down.
It’s a mark of ownership.
I look at it, and the terrifying truth settles in. I don't want to take it off.
I hated him for trapping me. Hated him for the handcuffs. But last night, when he stripped away the civilized world and showed me the monster beneath, I didn't run away. I ran toward him.
I crave the violence in him because it drowns out the betrayal of my father. I love the way he looks at me, not as a daughter to be sold, but as a prize to be kept at all costs.
I’m done fighting the title.
I push myself up, swinging my legs out of bed.
Fine,I think. If the world treats me like a piece on a chessboard, I’m done being the pawn. I’ll be the Queen.
I walk to the bathroom. A fresh robe is waiting. On the marble counter, a note sits in jagged, black handwriting.
Dinner is at 8:00. Wear the velvet. The ship leaves at 9:00.
I run my thumb over the ink. No "good morning." He doesn't ask how I am. He just gives orders.
