The collar was still around her neck.
It didn't feel like ownership.
It felt like power.
She sat at the edge of the bed, legs bare and swinging slightly, wrapped in a silk robe she'd pulled from the back of the chair. The fabric smelled like him. Midnight. Control. Cigarettes and sex.
Then the door opened.
Cassian stepped in with a phone to his ear.
"She's not a liability. She's mine. That's all you need to know."
He met Eden's eyes as he said it, then ended the call.
"That sounded serious," she said.
"It was."
He walked to her, slow and deliberate.
Then,
He dropped to one knee.
She blinked.
"I want you to remember this moment," he murmured.
"Why?"
"Because this is the last time you'll ever have the illusion of choice."
Her heart kicked.
He touched her ankle.
Ran his hand up her calf, then paused at her knee.
"Stand up," he said.
She did.
"Open."
She let her knees fall open.
He rose slowly, pacing around her like a storm closing in, his fingers brushing the inside of her thigh, the dip of her back, the curve of her hip.
"You said you wanted real," he said.
"I do."
"Real is ugly. It's cruel. It doesn't beg for forgiveness after it ruins you."
He unknotted her robe. Let it fall.
Then he took out something from his back pocket, a phone.
"I want to show you something."
She frowned.
The screen lit up.
A photo of her.
Tied. Blindfolded. Open.
She stared.
"You took this last night?"
"I took a lot."
"Why are you showing me?"
"Because you belong to me now. And that means I document everything I destroy."
Her mouth went dry.
He stepped closer. "You're not scared?"
"I should be."
He slid his hand between her legs.
"You're not."
"I'm not."
"You're wet."
She nodded.
"Then let's keep going."
He pressed her back against the window, the cold glass kissing her spine.
Below them, the city shimmered, restless and watching, like it knew what they were about to do.
Her body pressed to the cold glass, he pinned her hands above her head.
He entered her from behind, one hard thrust, and she gasped.
"Say my name," he growled.
"Cassian"
"Louder."
"Cassian!"
She moaned as he pounded into her. She felt the edge of the glass dig into her stomach. His hand tangled in her hair. His other gripped her throat.
The pressure wasn't cruel, it was grounding.
She came fast. Loud. Shameless.
He didn't stop.
He bent her forward, one leg lifted, deeper now.
"I want you marked," he whispered.
"You already did."
"No," he said. "Not just with bruises. With memory."
He turned her around, gripping her thighs as he lifted her, slamming her back to the window again with a thud that stole her breath.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he drove into her harder, rough, urgent, like losing control was the only thing that felt right.
Their moans echoed off the glass.
When he cummed, it was rough and raw, like it dragged something out of him.
They stood there, breathless.
Sweat. Sex. Silence.
Then he said,
"Put your clothes on. You're coming with me."
The Drive
The car was sleek. Black leather. Music low.
Eden beside him, legs folded tight, fingers nervously twisting in her lap.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice quieter than she meant.
"Somewhere private."
She looked at him.
He didn't elaborate.
She stared out the window instead, heart still racing.
"So what now?" she asked.
"You'll learn," he said. "To stay close. To shut your mouth. And to never lie to me."
"Why would I lie?"
He looked at her.
"Because you already are."
She stiffened.
"I'm not.."
"You're hiding something."
He wasn't wrong.
But she didn't respond.
He smirked. "Exactly."
They got to an Estate
The car stopped outside a gated mansion tucked in hills far from the city.
It was older, elegant in a terrifying way. Marble statues. Iron gates. A fountain that looked like blood in the moonlight.
"Who lives here?"
"I do," Cassian said. "Sometimes."
He helped her out of the car.
"I want to show you something," he said.
She followed him through the grand hall, past mirrors too tall to be practical and chandeliers shaped like twisted vines.
Then down.
To the basement.
She stopped at the top of the stairs.
"Cassian…"
"Come."
The air changed.
Cooler. Denser.
He led her into a room with walls lined in velvet and shadow.
In the center,
There was a bed.
Chains. Leather cuffs. Mirrors on the ceiling. A camera on a tripod.
She swallowed.
"This is where I break people," he said.
She turned slowly toward him.
"Are you going to break me too?"
He walked to her. Brushed hair from her cheek.
"No," he said. "You're going to break yourself for me."
Hours Later
She was cuffed.
Flat on the bed.
Legs spread.
He didn't fuck her.
He just watched her squirm.
The vibrator was strapped between her thighs.
Low at first.
Then high.
Then nothing.
She cried out every time he turned it off just before the edge.
"Please, Cassian.."
"No."
"I'll do anything"
"You already are."
He pressed his fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them shamelessly.
Her body writhed.
Her collar tightened every time she moved.
He leaned in.
"You want to cum?"
"Yes," she gasped.
"Then beg."
She broke.
"I need it," she moaned. "Please. Please let me cum, please, I'll be good"
He watched her.
There was silence.
Then,
He flipped the setting to high.
And didn't stop it.
She screamed.
Cummed so hard she nearly blacked out.
Her body jolted uncontrollably, every nerve on fire. Her voice was raw, her throat scraped from how hard she'd screamed.
He didn't touch her.
Just watched.
"You're mine," he said softly. "Look what I turn you into."
He released the cuffs. Held her close.
Rocked her slowly as she came down from the high.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded weakly.
But something flickered in her chest.
This didn't feel like submission anymore.
It felt like war.
And she wasn't sure which side she was on.
Later That Night
Cassian stepped out to take a call.
She stayed in the velvet room, curled under the silk sheets.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser.
He hadn't taken it this time.
She grabbed it fast.
It was an unknown number: You don't know who he is. But I do.
Her stomach dropped.
Another message followed:
Check the red folder under the mattress. Do it now. Before it's too late.
She froze.
Then slowly, hands shaking, reached under the mattress.
A folder was hidden there.
Thin. Red. Unlabeled.
She opened it.
Inside were photos.
Documents.
A single newspaper clipping with a headline that read:
"MISSING: MARLA DEVEREUX, 27, LAST SEEN WITH CASSIAN ROTH."
Eden's blood went cold.
She flipped the next photo.
It was Marla.
Collared. Tied. Smiling.
Just like Eden last night.
But the last page wasn't a photo.
It was a message, handwritten:
"If I disappear, it's because I trusted him too."