"Go ahead."
I pull out my phone and get to work.
The money I've accumulated over the years exists in fragments, cash in safe deposit boxes, one being in California which I can collect when we get there, then there are cryptocurrency wallets, offshore accounts set up through intermediaries who don't ask questions. It's not a fortune, but it's enough. Enough to pay Marcus. Enough to start over.
I begin the transfers. Bitcoin to Monero. Monero to cash through a broker in Singapore. Cash withdrawals scheduled across three states, only small amounts, nothing that triggers alerts. I route some through old accounts I haven't touched in years, making it look like I'm still active in Arizona.
False trails.
I buy a plane ticket from Phoenix to Miami using a burner credit card. Book a hotel in Tampa. Rent a car in Orlando. All digital breadcrumbs pointing east while we head west.
Roxy finishes before I do and she closes her laptop and stretches, her spine cracking.
"Done?" I ask.
"Done. Everything's gone."
"How do you feel?"
"Free," she says with a sigh that sounds like the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders.
I pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling mine. She's warm and solid, and I need to feel her. Need to ground myself in this moment before we step into the next phase.
"One week," I say.
"One week."
"You ready for our new life?"
"Yes." Her hands frame my face. "Are you?"
"Yes."
I kiss her and it quickly deepens, turning hungry. Like we're running out of time and this might be the last moment we have as ourselves. My hands slide under her shirt, finding bare skin. She gasps against my mouth and grinds down against me. I'm already hard, already aching for her.
"I need you," I say, my voice rough. "Right now."
"You always have me."
I stand, lifting her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bed. The laptop glows beside us, but I don't care. Nothing matters except this. Except her.
I drop her on the mattress and she bounces once, her eyes dark and wanting. I pull her shirt over her head and she arches up to help me. No bra. Just her perfect tits and flushed skin and the way she's looking at me like she needs this as much as I do.
"You're mine," I say, my hands on her thighs, spreading them. "Say it."
"I'm yours."
"Again."
"I'm yours, Dom. Only yours."
I lean down and bite her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. She cries out, her hands fisting in my hair.
"Everyone's going to see these," I growl against her skin, moving to her collarbone, her shoulder. "They're going to know exactly who you belong to."
"Yes…fuck, yes…"
I suck another bruise into the curve of her breast, then another on her ribs. Marking her with my touch. Making sure there's no question of who she belongs to. She's pulling at my shirt and I let her strip it off me. Her nails drag down my chest, my stomach, and I hiss at the sting.
