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For safety.

Release.

I gesture to the spot on the couch, and I see her confusion at me allowing her to sit first.

“Down here?” she confirms, pointing to the cushion.

“Yes.”

Ultimately, she does as she’s instructed, lowering herself to the seat. She flinches when the cold leather hits her bare thighs. My gaze drops down to where her nipples tighten and peak, pushing at that torn, flimsy dress.

“That was just insane,” she says as I turn my back to her, leaning over the desktop to flip through the screens. “I’ve heard of night terrors, but nothing like that.”

The first video I pull up is of the hallway, where Lex continues to roam up and down the corridor. Admittedly, I’ve been a bit skeptical of the whole sleep-raping thing. Wicker has a flair for the dramatic. How hard could it be to push a sleeping guy off you?

Only, I glance over at Verity, seeing the red welting around her neck, and concede that maybe Wicker had a point. I shoot Danner a quick message, hoping he can get my brother back to bed before any additional havoc ensues.

Opening another screen, it reveals the dungeon downstairs. The camera angles in on Bruce, rolled up on a cot with his back turned to the camera. Lex went in while we were at practice and checked on the brands. It’s been two days, and I still can’t get the scent of burning flesh out of my mind—or the little mindfuck that he dropped. My father is from West End? Bullshit. It was a hail Mary for sure, but the simple fact he came after me like that? Brought up my past, knows my history? Well, that’s something to consider.

For the third, and largest part of the screen, I pull up a recording from earlier tonight. It’s a small group of well-dressed people down in the drawing room, invited for a night of music and networking. In the top corner, the camera catches the bottom curve of a cello, the bow slowly swaying back and forth. I press the volume, and the timbre of a rich music fills the room.

“Wicker,” Effie croons in my brother’s voice.

Verity gasps, her gaze jolting toward the cage as if she’s just now noticing it. “What the–” Her mouth parts in shock. “You have a bird?”

Effie preens her wing. “Dirty bird.”

“Pretty bird,” I correct her. “Effie, show Verity how pretty you are.”

She turns on her perch, head bobbing and tilting. “Motherfucking bird.” Lex’s voice. “Suck my balls.” Wicker’s voice.

I roll my eyes. “Show herpretty, Effie.”

Effie pauses before raising her beak to trill out a happy melody to complement the cello. Afterward, she says in a parody of my own voice, “Pretty bird.”

I nod. “That’s right. Good girl.”

“Oh my god.” Verity looks enraptured, her fingertips dragging over her throat. “Oh mygod, it sounds just like… all of you.”

I reach over for the sheet, announcing, “Time for bed, Effie.”

Predictably, she doesn’t take this well. “Suck my balls,” she snaps as I reach into the cage to fire up the tablet. “Suck, suck, suck–” She goes silent when the screen flares to life, that South Side sky cam, her new obsession. She makes another trill, extends her wings, and then, “Pretty bird.”

“Good girl.” Covering the cage, I say, “It’s an hour until midnight.”

Midnight—when Verity’s day off rolls over and she belongs to me again. It smarts to have her like this, in drips and drabs. It’ll delay my progress. Some marks do better with routine isolation. Bruce, for instance. The longer we leave him alone, the more unsettled he feels. Verity isn’t like that. I knew the first time we chatted, almost two years ago, that she was the type of mark who required constant attention. Did my best to give it to her, too.

I’m not one to always follow the rules, but when I drop down into my desk chair, spinning to face her, the distance between us makes my commitment to not breaking this one clear.

At least not officially.

I gesture at the tear in her gown, the rip revealing the smooth skin just below her collarbone. Red scratches mar her flesh. “He almost got you, didn’t he?”

Swallowing, she reaches up to touch the skin. “Yes. If my handmaiden hadn’t been there...”

It’s a good thing that girl had her wits about her. I know Lex likes to roam, but I didn’t actually expect him to get that physical. Aside from a few fights on the ice, it’s never really been Lex’s style. If he’d gotten to her—fucked her on a designated day off—father would have been livid.

“Lex has always been into tits,” I say, as a way of dismissing his aggression. I lift my chin. “Let’s see them.”