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ByteQueen:you ok?
FangsOut:if he’s keeping you prisoner blink twice
Zero_Day:or hack the Vatican again
Ghostfox:or break something beautiful. You always were best at that.
That one makes me pause.
Break something beautiful.
I inhale, fingers poised over the keys.
Not dead. Not fine either.
Thinking about one last stand.
A flurry of replies flood in.
Zero_Day:hell yes
ByteQueen:you mean it??
FangsOut:go big or go ghost, baby
Whiteout:what do you mean one last stand tho?
Ghostfox:make it hurt. Make it worth it.
I stare at that last one.
Make it worth it.
Makehimworth it.
He loved me in a language of violence and control, but he also held me like I was holy. And I let him. I let him in deeper than anyone ever has.
I close the chat, fingers trembling.
And now I’m on the edge of a precipice. My fingers trace the edge of the collar. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then for the first time since Dante put it on me, I finger the clasp.
The sharp exhale drives my gaze to the bedroom door.
My thumb freezes on the clasp. I’m suddenly aware of every breath, every beat of my heart echoing inside the collar he gave me.
The dark doorframe hides most of Dante’s bulk, but the voice—low, dark, velvet wrapped in iron—fills the room as his hand settles on the jamb.
A single brow lifts, as if he’s offered me a dare wrapped in silk and razor-wire. “You thinking of taking it off, little thief? Stealing away when I’m not looking?”
I swallow. God, the way my whole body betrays me just by hearing him.
“Maybe,” I answer.Translation: yes, but only because I’m terrified.“You said you loved me in the middle of a cyber-attack, when the sky’s servers maxed at Cat-5. I’m still not sure whether I’ve survived the blast or not.”
He strolls closer, sealing us inside a bubble of tension and possibility. Even sleep and sex-ruffled, he radiates authority. Each measured stride shortens my breath.
“Would you like me to start again? Go slower?” he says, voice rough. “Beg?”
The admission shocks me.