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I move fast.

I drop my weight onto the bed, pinning her legs with my body. Her fists thrash, teeth bared, hair wild around her face like some mythic creature in chains. Beautiful. Terrifying.

Ours.

“Enough,” I growl, yanking the small black canister from my pocket.

She sees it too late.

I press the nozzle under her nose and fire a burst of vapor.

She thrashes once more—violently. Then again. Then slower.

Her breathing hitches. Her limbs falter.

And then she slumps.

Her head lolls slightly to the side, lips parted, lashes fluttering as the sedative pulls her under.

I sit there for a beat, letting my own pulse come down. Then I release the restraints from her wrists. Her skin is warm, sweat-damp from the struggle, her breath slow and even.

With haste, I grab all the final things we need.

Clothes. Toiletries. The few items we brought from her cabin I shove into a bag. When everything’s packed, I scoop her up into my arms. She fits there too well.

Her oversized shirt clings to her skin. Her bare legs dangle slightly, one arm curled against my chest as though even in unconsciousness she hasn’t fully let go.

I carry her out of the house and to the SUV and lay her carefully across the back seat, strapping her in gently. My gloved hand brushes a lock of hair from her cheek before I close the door.

Then I slide behind the wheel, start the engine, and drive.

Chapter 35

Seanna

Consciousnesscreepsinslowly,gentle and deceptive, easing me back into reality like it’s afraid to jolt me awake too quickly. A quiet groan slips past my lips, body sluggish, heavy like I'm swimming through molasses. Whatever sedative Rule used still lingers, dulling my edges, but not enough to mask the ache echoing deep within my bones. I stretch instinctively, only to feel familiar resistance—the cool leather cuffs wrapped around my wrists.

My eyes flutter open, vision blurred at first, but slowly sharpening, taking in my newest prison from where I’m secured to yet another new bed.

Another cage. Another goddamn room.

Except this room… this room isn’t just a cage.

It’s a goddamn temple built to worship everything they seem to think I embody.

And fuck if it doesn’t scream their particular brand of obsession louder than ever.

If the other room felt tailored to me, this one fits like a goddamn glove.

It’s beautiful in a way that makes my stomach twist. Dark and seductive—an offering, a shrine built from sin. The bed beneath me is massive, its headboard a luxurious slab of plush black velvet that begs to be touched. The silk sheets tangled around my body are burgundy, rich and bold, sliding over my skin like warm whispers. If decadence had a bedroom, this would be it.

There’s a faint scent in the air—something dark and expensive. Leather and something spiced. Maybe sandalwood. Or clove. Whatever it is, it smells like them. Like power dressed in sin. The lighting is low. Soft golden pools of light warming only the edges of the room, casting long shadows that seem to move if I stare too long.

And it pisses me off because they know me so fucking well.

Testing the cuffs gently, I find I’ve got just enough slack to shift and sit up slightly, propping myself against the velvet headboard. The softness teases my skin, and I push down the absurd urge to rub my face against it like a fucking cat. It feels far too comfortable for a cage.

I shift again, slower this time, letting my bare feet brush against the sheets. The silk slips between my toes like it’s trying to seduce me. My stomach turns. I fucking hate how good it feels. Every inch of this room is a trap—soft and scented and beautiful, designed to lull me, to convince me this is where I belong. Like if they make it tempting enough, I’ll stop fighting. Like comfort can undo the fury.