Chapter 12 #2
The cage—iron bars polished to a cruel shine.
The cuffs—too tight, digging into reddened skin.
And the trembling in her knees, not from fear, but from sheer endurance.
From what she had endured. From the razor-thin thread of willpower she held onto.
Exhaustion painted her in pale hues, but it hadn’t broken her.
Not yet. That part of her—the fire, the steel—still burned in the set of her shoulders, even as her body swayed.
The rest of the world—the opulence, the bidding, the vile audience—it all blurred into static. The heavy press of bodies, the gleam of gold, the sour tang of expensive whiskey—none of it mattered.
Only she remained clear. Harper.
She sat too still, too quiet. Not broken, but brittle, like one more breath might shatter her.
His vision narrowed when he saw her—tuned to the rise and fall of her chest, the bare skin beneath her collar, the slight twitch in her fingers that told him she was still fighting. Still alive. And barely holding on.
He moved faster than thought. Three steps. A shot to the head of the handler. Another to the guard.
He was at the cage before their bodies hit the floor, ripping the lock apart with a mini-crowbar he’d tucked into his belt.
The steel groaned, then snapped. She was slumped inside, wrists and ankles bound.
He dropped to his knees, cut the restraints with a knife, and caught her as she sagged forward.
Then she was in his arms.
She stiffened at first—blind, dazed. "I've got you little thief." She melted the moment his voice hit her ear.
He swept her up in his arms and carried her out while chaos erupted around them.
Once the plane had landed in San Antonio, they didn’t go straight to a hospital. Not with her curled against him like that, clinging to consciousness, with fingers digging into his shoulder.
Paramedics met them on the airstrip, but the second they moved in with a stretcher and saline bag, Harper shook her head. "No needles. No stretchers. No questions," she rasped.
Reed stepped in front of them before they could argue. "She said no. We’re done here."
"Just get me home," she whispered. "Your bed. No lights. No voices. Just… you."
He nodded once. That was something he could do.
She barely made it into the SUV, head resting against the window as they sped back to the estate. Every few minutes, Reed glanced her way, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. Just breathed.
When they finally pulled through the gates, and into the long drive, her fingers brushed his arm. Once inside, Reed carried her into his room. His bed. The place no one else had touched. She lay scraped, silent, curled into herself.
He shut the door.
"Strip."
Her head jerked up, eyes wide.
"Now," he said, voice hard.
She didn’t ask questions. Just obeyed. Fingers trembling as she peeled away the tatters of silk.
"You went knowing there was a very real possibility they’d add you to their auction.
Did you really think they’d just let you walk away?
" Reed’s voice was low, but the tremor beneath it betrayed him.
His fists clenched at his sides, the tension rippling up his forearms. A vein pulsed at his temple.
Every part of him screamed with the urge to shake her, kiss her, tie her to the damn bed and never let her go again.
She didn’t deny it.
"Did you think I wouldn't burn the world down to get to you?"
Her breath hitched.
He stalked forward, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around. Bent her over the edge of the bed.
"You ran. You lied. And you offered yourself up like a sacrificial lamb."
His hand cracked across her ass. Once. Twice. Hard enough to leave heat blooming under her skin, sharp enough to steal the breath from her lungs. She gasped, her body jolting forward with the force, her knees wobbling beneath the sting.
"You want to be treated like a thing? Like property?" he growled, voice low and dangerous. "Then I’ll remind you who you belong to."
He caught her arms with a swift, practiced motion and pulled them behind her, expertly wrapping the soft, supple leather cuffs around her wrists.
The familiar, intoxicating scent of worn hide and his skin filled her senses, enveloping her.
The audible click of the buckle was final and electrifying, a sound that resonated deep within her.
He didn’t offer her gentleness; there was no room for tenderness in this moment.
Instead, he claimed her completely—his hands firmly gripping her hips with a possessive intensity, his mouth tracing heated trails of desire across her shoulder blades.
His teeth grazed the delicate curve of her neck, sending shivers down her spine, before he slid his erect length into her with relentless force. Hard. Deep. Unyielding.
He penetrated her with a fervor that spoke volumes of how close he’d come to losing her, as if by burying himself deep enough within her, he could ensure she would never leave again.
Every powerful thrust carried the unspoken weight of emotions he struggled to voice—the fear that clawed at his heart, the fury that simmered beneath his skin, the desperate need to imprint his essence onto her very soul.
Her moans were raw and uninhibited, echoing through the room, her back arching instinctively to meet every brutal inch he delivered.
She embraced the punishment, craved it, and relished the searing heat of their entwined bodies. Her body trembled with exquisite sensation. Heat rolled through her in waves, laced with the sting of every strike and the pulse of every thrust.
Somewhere between pain and euphoria, she caught her breath and felt her chest tighten—not from fear, but from the overwhelming truth of being claimed so completely.
For the first time, she didn’t run from it.
She surrendered to it. From both the sting of his palm against her flesh and the sheer force of him asserting his claim over her.
Yet she never flinched, never shied away.
And when he finally reached his climax, a fierce growl of her name escaping his lips as he released himself inside her, his hands clenched so tightly around her hips that she would bear the marks for days to come—he didn’t let go.
Instead, he enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close, and buried his face in the comforting sanctuary of her hair, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers.
"Never again," he whispered into the heat of her skin. "You don’t get to leave. Not without me."
She didn’t fight it. Not this time. In his arms, shuddering and breathless, she softened—finally.
Reed felt the tremor in her muscles, the loosening of tension that had wrapped her tight since the moment he met her.
She didn’t have to say anything. He felt it in the way her body curved into his—no resistance, just raw, unspoken trust.
And that trust hit him harder than any mission ever had. He tightened his grip around her waist, dragging her closer, chest to back, his breath warm against her neck. She wasn’t just surrendering to the scene. She was surrendering to him.
Letting him hold her like she was more than flesh... like she was his.