It’s full daylight now, though the sky is heavy with those soft, fluffy clouds drifting lazily overhead… no bright sun, just a muted, greyish light that makes everything feel colder. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be morning. Either Soren went back to his room and found the bed empty, or it’s breakfast time and I didn’t show up.
I hate breakfast, not the food itself, which is always delicious, but the whole ritual of it. He makes me sit right next to him every single time, and I hate it more than anything. I feel like I’m being dissected under the eyes of every person at that long table. To them I’m nothing but their boss’s little toy, a fragile, breakable thing that belongs to Soren and no one else.
I’m much smaller than almost all of them, only five foot six on a good day, while Soren towers over everyone, well over six foot of solid muscle and ink and cold authority. Next to him, and next to his men, I feel like achild. They’re all broad shoulders and cocky confidence, even the women somehow make me feel smaller and more insignificant.
One of them, Selina, is actually nice. She’s tried to make conversation with me a couple of times… simple questions about how I’m doing or what I’ve been reading… but Soren always clears his throat or gives her a single, sharp look that clearly says, “shut up.” Last time it happened she just offered me a small, sympathetic smile before turning away. No one’s allowed to get near me. No one’s allowed to talk to me. The only real exception is Lorraine, the housekeeper, and I’m endlessly grateful that Soren lets me have her. She’s the only person here who makes me feel even slightly human.
Honestly, I don’t even know why Soren keeps me around at all. He could have anyone he wanted… beautiful, confident people who would probably give him far more pleasure, who wouldn’t flinch or go silent or freeze up the way I do. I’m just…me…. nerdy, quiet, scared Christopher; who still has nightmares about the night he took me. Yet he keeps pulling me back into his bed, keeps marking me, keeps watching me with that intense stare.
I hug my knees tighter behind the bin, the gravel digging into my feet, and try to slow my breathing. The morning air is cool against my flushed skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant rain. I just need a moment. Just a few more seconds to pull myself together before he finds me.
Chapter Three
~ Breakfast ~
Kit
I sit curled on the wooden bench tucked into the middle of Lorraine’s favourite flower garden, the one that runs along the quieter side of the estate. The air smells of damp soil and sweet blooms. My bare feet are cold against the gravel path, my thin robe pulled tight around my pyjamas, but I can’t bring myself to move yet. The dream is still clinging to me like wet cloth, making my chest feel tight and my stomach churn.
A sudden voice makes me flinch so hard my whole body jolts. “You’re causing a ruckus, kid.”
Armen’s laugh follows right after, warm and easy like we’re old friends. I look up quickly, heart still racing. He stands a few feet away with both hands raised in a placating gesture, a crooked grin on his face. “Whoa… it’s just me.”
He says it like we’re pals or something, like I’m not the boss’s fragile little toy, who isn’t supposed to talk to any of them. I swallow hard and push myself up from the bench on shaky legs, nodding once.
Armen jerks his head toward the main house. “C’mon, boss won’t eat breakfast without you.”
I stand here for a second, then whisper, “Sorry,” and wait for him to lead the way, keeping a careful distance.
He laughs again, amused. “Don’t want to walk next to me?”
I shake my head quickly. “He wouldn’t like it.”
Armen nods, still smiling, but then his expression shifts a little. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but…” He pauses, studying me as we start walking. “I mean, it’s not fair, is it? You’ve been with us two years and you still look like you just got here yesterday.”
My chest feels so heavy it hurts. After that nightmare, it really does feel like I just arrived yesterday… twenty years old, terrified, dragged out of my parents’ house with their blood still warm on the floor. I don’t answer. I just keep my eyes on the path.
Armen continues, voice gentler now. “We aren’t all bad, you know.” He scoffs softly. “He only recruited Aria a year ago and everyone already treats her like a little sister. Yet you, Kit…” He trails off, shaking his head. “We’re not even allowed to speak to you. Why is that?”
I keep my voice small as we reach the main doors. “I don’t know, Armen. I don’t… I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Have you asked him?”
I shake my head again. “We don’t really…speak.”
Armen barks out a loud laugh, clearly thinking I just mean that Soren and I only have sex, that our “conversations” happen in his bed and nowhere else. He has no idea how scared I still am to form actual sentences around Soren, how every word feels like it might be the wrong one.
I hesitate, then ask quietly, “Can I change?”
“Sorry, bud,” Armen says with a shrug as he pushes the dining room door open. “Boss is restless and needs his antidote… meaningyou.”
I frown, the words slipping out before I can stop them, muttered under my breath. “Can’t someoneelsebe his antidote for once…”
Inside, the long table is already loud with the team laughing and shoving food into their mouths like hungry wolves.
Lorraine makes me jump when she suddenly appears at my side, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. Her smile is warm but concerned. “You okay, Kit?”
I whisper back, barely audible, “I’d rather not be here.”
