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"They'll find me," I repeated, meeting his gaze. "Novo won't stop looking."
"Such faith," Degrassi mocked. "Let me show you something."
He released my chin and took out his phone again. After typing briefly, he turned the screen toward me. It showed a news article with the headline: "Biker Gang Violence Escalates: Strip Club Torched in Territorial Dispute."
"The official story," Degrassi explained. "A rival gang burned down your husband's establishment. The police are already focusing their investigation in that direction—with a little help from some well-placed bribes."
My heart sank. If the police believed it was gang-related, they wouldn't look for other connections.
"And when you disappear?" Degrassi continued. "Well, the tragic story writes itself. Young man caught in the crossfire of gang warfare, body never recovered." He shrugged. "Your biker moves on, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer."
"You don't know him," I insisted, though doubt crept in like poison. Would Novo really keep searching when everyone believed me dead? When his club was threatened?
"I know men like him," Degrassi replied confidently. "Everyone has a price. His is just higher than most, and don’t forget he’s been bought once."
They didn’t know.My heart leapt. They thought Daddy was doing this for the money and he wasn’t.
He set the crop aside and pulled a syringe from his pocket. "Now, I think we need to start your reconditioning. This will help you relax into your new role, as I have to go out for a few hours, and I don't want you getting any foolish ideas."
I struggled against my restraints, panic rising. "No, don't—"
"Shh," he soothed, as if comforting a child. "Fighting my will only makes things worse. You remember that, don't you?"
As he approached with the needle, I desperately searched for anything that might help me. The room was windowless, the door heavy and likely locked. The only furniture besides my chair was Degrassi's desk, the cabinet of implements, and a bed in the corner that made my skin crawl.
"Please," I whispered, "you don't have to do this. We can work something out."
Degrassi's eyes glittered with amusement. "We already are working something out, pet. This is just to help you understand your new reality."
As the needle approached my arm, I made one last desperate attempt. "Harold will kill me eventually, anyway. You know that, right? Once he has control of my money, I'm worthless to him."
Degrassi paused, his head tilting slightly. "Perhaps. But by then, you'll be properly trained and completely mine. Your godfather's plans for you aren't the same as mine. My plans..." His fingers stroked my cheek, making my skin crawl. "Well, let's just say I have a long-term investment in mind."
The needle slid into my arm before I could respond. Almost immediately, warmth spread through my veins, making my limbs heavy and my thoughts fuzzy. I fought against wanting to sleep with everything I had.
"That's it," Degrassi murmured, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Let go. When you wake up, we'll begin your real training."
As my vision blurred, I clung to one thought: Daddy would come for me. He had to. Not because of money or revenge, but because...because he cared. He'd said so, hadn't he? The memory of his voice calling me "little one" floated through my drug-addled mind, a lifeline in the darkness.
Then nothing.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of movement, of hands on my body, changing my clothes, of being moved to the bed. Time became meaningless—I couldn't tell if hours or days had passed. Each time I surfaced, Degrassi was there, speaking in that calm, controlled voice about rules and expectations and consequences.
When I finally woke fully, I was no longer in the chair. Instead, I lay on the bed, still clothed but in different garments—plain cotton pajamas that reminded me of hospital clothes. The collar remained around my neck, but my hands and feet were free. The chain still attached to the collar was now secured to a ring on the wall, allowing limited movement around the room.
"Ah, there you are," Degrassi said from his position at the desk. "I was beginning to think I'd miscalculated the dosage."
I pushed myself up slowly, my head pounding. "How long?" My voice came out as a rasp.
"Just over twenty-four hours," he replied, checking his watch. "Enough time for the search for you to become quite frantic, I imagine."
Twenty-four hours. A day of my life gone, and Novo was probably going out of his mind with worry. Or had he already given up? Accepted Harold's offer?
No. I wouldn't believe that. Couldn't.
"Water?" I managed to ask.
“Beg,” he ordered, a sly smile on his face.