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Isabeast looked from Ciro to the camera and smiled.

She had spent too long trying to prove she owned me to let him have the stage to himself. Now the “behave for the camera” bullshit made sense. She hadn’t only wanted me obedient. She’d wanted an audience for it.

She moved into the frame and stopped beside my chair.

“Your brother should see what you look like when you finally understand you don’t get to tell me no.”

Her fingers slid into my hair. Her nails scraped across my scalp before she closed her fist and jerked my head back.

“Hard to sell that with four cuffs and a room full of backup.”

Her grip tightened.

“Still counting on your precious Syndicate to rescue you?”

“Aye. I’d be more worried if I were you.”

She lowered her face beside mine, close enough that her perfume reached me.

She settled partly onto my left thigh, right where she knew it hurt most.

My thigh cramped under her weight.

I gave her no response.

She turned toward the camera.

“Your captain came to rescue me. I asked for help, and he came because he thought I needed him. He put himself exactly where I wanted him.”

Her fingers moved from my hair to my throat.

“Now he stays with me.”

She kissed me.

I stayed still until she pulled away.

Then she smiled into the camera.

“Your captain belongs to me. He’s my pet.”

“Funny. You still need Ciro’s permission before you climb into my lap.”

Her fingers tightened around my throat.

“I don’t need anyone’s permission.”

I looked past her at Ciro.

“Hear that? Your whore prefers giving the orders now.”

Ciro’s expression eased into a smug smile.

“This is his dungeon,” I continued. “His camera. His guards. His hostage. You’re sitting on me because he allows it.”

She went still against me.

“You think I need his permission?”