7. Roman
ROMAN
I heard everything. From the moment she got up from the bed, I had sensed her. Unknown to her, I followed her to her room while she made a call to those bastards.
Now, the call ends.
I push the door open. No knock. No warning.
Rue spins around, phone still clutched in her shaking hand. Those green eyes go wide, filling with something between terror and shame.
"Roman—I was just?—"
"I heard it all." My voice comes out flat. Cold. I step inside and close the door behind me with a soft click that sounds too loud in the quiet room.
Her face drains of color. "Please, I can explain?—"
"Your parents." I move closer, slow and deliberate. "They're blackmailing you with your brother's life."
She flinches like I've struck her. The phone slips from her fingers, hitting the carpet with a muted thud.
"I didn't—I wasn't going to—" Her words trip over each other. "I swear, I won't take anything from you or Daddy. I just need to figure out how to?—"
"Stop." I reach her in two strides, catching her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Force her to look at me. "Did you think we wouldn't find out?"
Tears spill over, tracking down her flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never wanted?—"
"Do you think I'm mad because you tried to con us?"
That stops her. Confusion flickers across her face.
"I'm mad," I continue, tightening my grip just enough to make her gasp, "because you didn't trust us enough to tell us the truth."
"I was scared." Her voice breaks. "They said they'd let Kurt die if I?—"
"Your brother will get everything he needs." I lean in until our faces are inches apart. "Dad's already making calls. Best doctors. Full treatment. He'll be moved to our private facility by tomorrow afternoon."
She blinks. "What?"
"Did you really think we'd fuck you raw and fill you with our cum without protecting what's ours?" My thumb traces her bottom lip. "You belong to us now, Rue. That means your family is our responsibility."
"But my parents?—"
"Will never touch you or Kurt again." I slide my hand around to grip the nape of her neck, feeling her pulse hammer against my palm. "You're done taking orders from them. The only people you answer to now are me and Dad."
"But what if they try to take him?" Rue's voice climbs higher, panic threading through every word. "What if they show up at the hospital and?—"
"We have men on Kurt already." Dad's voice cuts through from the doorway. I hadn't heard him, but there he stands, arms crossed, his steel-gray eyes locked on our girl. "Three of them. Round the clock. Your parents won't get within fifty feet of that boy."
Rue's breath hitches. "You don't understand. They're—they're desperate. They'll do anything?—"
"So will we." Dad moves into the room, his presence filling the space like a storm rolling in. "But little girl, you still don't trust us." Dad's words land heavy. Not angry. Just… disappointed. "Even after everything."
"That's not—" Rue starts, but her voice cracks.
"It is." I tighten my grip on her nape, feeling the tension coiled there. "You're still trying to control everything yourself. Still thinking you have to carry this alone."
Two small wet spots bloom across the front of her thin sleep shirt. Right at the peaks of her breasts. Her stress response, making her body betray her fear.
Dad sees it at the same moment I do. His eyes darken, dropping to her chest before meeting mine.
We don't need words. Never have. I read the intent in his expression as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.
Time to teach our girl a lesson.
I scoop her up before she can protest, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She gasps, clutching at my shoulders.
"What are you?—"
"Tonight," Dad says, moving ahead of us to open the door, "you're going to learn what it means to put your trust in us."
"Wait—no, I need to think about Kurt, I need to?—"
"Kurt is handled." I carry her down the hall, her weight barely registering. "You need to learn to let go."
The dungeon door swings open under Dad's hand. Cool air wafts up from below, carrying that faint scent of leather and something darker.
"Please." Rue's voice shakes. "I do trust you, I swear?—"
"Not enough." Dad's words echo in the stairwell as we descend. "Not yet."
I lay her on the same bed where we took her virginity hours ago. Her body trembles under my hands as I position her wrists above her head. The restraints close with soft clicks that make her flinch.
Dad moves to her ankles, securing them with practiced efficiency. Spread wide. Open. Vulnerable.
"I'm going to blindfold you now," I tell her, pulling the soft black silk from my pocket.
"No—" Real fear bleeds into her voice. "Please, I need to see?—"
"That's the point, little girl." Dad's rougher tone makes her shiver. "Tonight you don't get to see. Don't get to control. You just have to feel. Have to trust that we'll take care of you."
The blindfold settles over her eyes, cutting off her sight. Her breath comes faster now, chest rising and falling, those wet spots growing larger as stress and arousal war in her body.
"We're going to take our time with you," I murmur against her ear. "And you're going to learn to surrender everything to us."
I move to the corner where we keep our tools. The candle sits on the shelf, smooth white wax, unscented. I grab it along with the lighter.
"What's that?" Rue's voice pitches higher. "What are you doing?"
I don't answer. Just flick the lighter, watch the flame catch and grow steady.
Dad crosses to the mini fridge built into the wall. Ice clinks as he fills a metal bowl, the sound sharp in the quiet space.
"Roman?" Her wrists pull against the restraints. "Reed? Please, what?—"
"Shh." I set the lit candle on the table beside the bed where she can't see it but might hear the faint crackle. "Remember what we said. You don't get to control tonight."
Dad turns with the bowl of ice, water already beading on the cold metal surface. He sets it on the other side of the bed with a soft thunk.
"Little girl, don't call me Reed." His voice drops lower, that command threading through every word. "Don't forget to call me daddy. From now on. Not just down here. Everywhere. Understood?"
Rue's throat works as she swallows. Those wet spots on her shirt have spread wider, milk seeping through the thin fabric.
"Yes."
"Yes what?" Reed's hand settles on her inner thigh, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there.
"Yes, daddy." The words come out breathy, shaking.
I watch her chest heave, watch the way her body responds even through the fear. She's ours. Every trembling inch of her.
"Good girl." Dad's approval makes her shiver harder. "Now we're going to teach you what it feels like to let go completely."