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it out and banish it and really get on with her life.

The rush of excitement, of sheer relief, of utter…everything

she’d felt when Coralyn barged through her door wasn’t her

and it wasn’t going to do to keep feeling that way. She needed

to stop this. And for that, she needed to study it. She needed to

know her enemy to know how to defeat her enemy, except that

the adversary wasn’t Coralyn herself. It was Giana’s own

body, her mind, and that cold spot in her chest.

“I know you’re into weird, kinky shit,” Coralyn threw at

her. “When I was looking for that necklace, I saw what was in

your dresser drawers. You want me to take off my pants so you

can freaking belt me across your desk or something? You’re a

sick person, Giana Thompson. The only thing keeping me

quiet, not telling the world who you really are, is the fact that

you could do anything to me. So, it’s my silence and

participation in signing the annulment in exchange for you

leaving me alone. That’s the deal. I’m not taking off my damn

pants.”

“No?” Giana liked a challenge. This had just got vastly

more interesting. She liked Coralyn with a spine much better

than a pleading, mindless, numbed out, exhausted shell of a

being. This just proved she was going to be alright, and Giana

found herself breathing a silent exhale of relief. “Alright, I was

going to reach into the third drawer of my desk, because I do

keep a strap in there, pushed to the back.”

Coralyn’s eyes widened. “Why the fuck would you keep

something like that in there?”

“For emergencies.”

“E-emergencies?”

The look on Coralyn’s face made Giana want to genuinely