Chapter 9 Cloe
CLOE
The mat was cold under my knees. Not freezing. Just… enough. Enough to bite. Enough to remind me where I was. What I was.
The camera blinked red above me. Steady. Unforgiving. I didn’t look at it. I didn’t look anywhere. My head stayed bowed. My hands stayed locked behind my back. My breath stayed shallow. Because moving wasn’t survival here. Stillness was. Obedience was.
I heard the door click shut. Not hard. Not loud. Just final. Wolfe was gone. And still—I stayed kneeling. Because I didn’t know if moving would bring him back. Or worse—bring him closer.
The silence thickened. Pressed down against the bruises on my ribs. Sank into the raw places under my skin. Coiled around the base of my throat where the collar sat.
Tight.
Cool.
Unyielding.
I shifted once. A tremor. Not disobedience. Not yet. Just a breath too deep. A muscle clenching without permission.
The mat whispered under me. Footsteps. Soft. Measured. I didn’t lift my head. But I knew.
Royal. His scent hit first—sharp, expensive cologne tangled with something meaner. Something hotter.
“Still breathing, sweetheart?”
The words brushed over my skin. Teasing. Mocking. I flinched inside myself. Tiny. Invisible. Not enough to break posture. Not enough to give him more.
Royal circled me once. Boots slow against the padded floor. The heat of him brushing against my bare shoulders. He didn’t touch me. Not yet. Just watched. Waiting. For what—I didn’t know.
Or maybe I did.
Maybe I always had.
“Bet you’re wondering what comes next,” he murmured.
I stayed still. My breath caught high in my throat. Because I was wondering. Because wondering was worse than knowing.
Royal stopped in front of me. Close. Too close.
I could feel the hem of his pants brush my knees when he shifted. A fingertip drifted along my collarbone. Not hard. Not cruel. Just a line of heat tracing the bruise there. A shudder ran down my spine. I swallowed it.
“You’re pretty when you don’t talk,” he said.
Another pass of his hand. This time slower. He didn’t grip. Didn’t yank. He just—brushed. Like testing how much damage was already done.
I wanted to flinch. Wanted to move. Wanted—
I didn’t even know.
The door creaked again. Another step. Heavier. Ragged.
Loyal.
He said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there. Breathing too fast. Breathing like it hurt. Like watching me hurt.
I kept my head down. Kept breathing. Kept surviving. Because that’s what obedience was now. It wasn’t about pleasing them. It wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about staying still enough to matter. Still enough to survive.
Royal’s hand drifted higher. Paused just below the collar. One fingertip brushing the chain link. Not tugging. Not claiming. Just reminding me it was there. As if I could ever forget.
“Good girl,” he whispered. Not mocking this time. Almost—soft.
He said it soft. Like comfort. And somehow that hurt more. Because part of me needed to hear it—even if I hated that I did. And somehow, that cut deeper than cruelty ever could.
I didn’t react. Didn’t thank him. Didn’t breathe differently. Because Wolfe hadn’t told me I could. And because even if he had—I didn’t know if I could survive moving. Not now. Not with the leash wrapped so tight around my lungs.
The floor blurred under my knees. Heat rising through the mat. Sweat sticking my hair to the back of my neck. The collar felt heavier now. Like it grew tighter the longer I obeyed.
Royal circled again. Slow. Lazy. A king at a private viewing. “Look at her, Loyal,” he said, voice all teeth and velvet. “Look how good she is.”
Loyal didn’t answer. I could feel his stare though. Heavy. Hot. Pinned between my shoulder blades. Seeping through my skin.
Royal crouched beside me. I smelled leather. Smoke. Felt his gaze skimming over my body. The bruises. The blood. The slow, breaking stillness.
“Bet you want to touch her again,” Royal murmured. “Bet you want to see what sound she makes when someone’s kind.”
I swallowed. Hard. The motion made the collar dig into my throat. As it should be. It was supposed to hurt. Royal didn’t touch me. Not yet. He let his hand hover—a breath from my hip.
A sigh from my ribs. Waiting. Testing. Daring me to flinch.
I didn’t. Couldn’t. Because survival didn’t live in motion anymore. It lived in stillness. It lived in breath.
Royal laughed low in his throat. “She’s learning,” he said. He stood. Stretched like a cat. Turned to Loyal. “Go ahead,” he said, lazy. “She’s yours too.”
I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me. Because those words—those words felt like chains tightening.
Loyal didn’t move.
For a heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Then—
He knelt.
Slow.
Painful.
Like gravity was stronger near me.
His hand hovered above my hair. Trembled. Dropped. The backs of his fingers brushed the shell of my ear. Down the curve of my neck. To the swell of my shoulder. Gentle. Terrible.
He was breathing hard. Too hard. Like looking at me—touching me—was ripping something out of him.
I stayed still. Breath catching. Body screaming. But I stayed. Because that’s what Wolfe wanted. Even when he wasn’t here. Especially then.
Loyal’s hand paused at the hollow of my throat. Right above the collar. One fingertip tracing the line of metal. Soft. Worshipful.
I felt the breath catch in his chest. Felt it shudder through his fingertips. Then he pulled away. Sharp. Like it hurt him.
Royal laughed again. “Didn’t even kiss her, Loyal,” he teased. “You’re getting soft.”
He didn’t defend himself. Didn’t argue. Just stayed kneeling beside me, like something sacred had already broken inside him. And I hated that I wanted to touch it.
Loyal didn’t rise immediately. He knelt there beside me. Breathing. Breaking.
And I—
I stayed kneeling.
Stayed breathing.
Stayed silent.
“Did someone tell her about the two galas she’ll be attending?
” Royal murmured, I could feel his icy stare fixed on my every reaction.
“No? Hmm. I thought Wolfe would’ve told you.
After all, you’ll be the center attraction.
The one they’ll all want to see…even if you’re on your knees.
” He crouched down, black slack pulled taught over his knees in front of me.
I kept my gaze down even as my cheeks burned.
“This is your test, Cloe. This is Wolfe’s personal test for you.
I’ve bet against you. Just wanted you to know. ”
He leaned closer.
“I’ve bet you’ll break before the first one is over.” That smarmy tone grew cold. “But fuck I’d love you to prove me wrong.”
The door creaked again. A shadow sliced across the floor. He was back. Wolfe. I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t need to. The air tightened around us the second he entered.
Royal fell silent. Loyal rose stiffly. Stepped back.
The room rearranged itself without a word.
Because it wasn’t ours to hold. It was his.
All of it. Even me. Especially me. The red light on the camera blinked once.
Then burned steady. Still recording. Still witnessing.
Still owning. The air in the room shifted.
Tightened. Thickened. Wolfe crossed the mat in silence.
Boots whispering against the padded floor.
No rush. No threat. He didn’t need either.
I stayed kneeling. Stayed breathing. Stayed still. Because anything else would’ve been worse.
Royal stepped back.Loyal disappeared into the corner. Only Wolfe remained. Close enough that I could feel the gravity of him.
The coldness that wrapped tighter around my skin than the bruises ever could. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t crouch. Didn’t lower himself to meet me where I broke. He stood. Over me. Around me. Claiming the air. The silence. The shame.
I kept my head bowed. My knees ached. My ribs ached. My pride ached. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Wolfe waited. Long enough that my breathing turned shallow. Long enough that my hands started trembling against my thighs. He let it happen. Let me shake. Let me bleed silence across the floor. Because breaking wasn’t the goal.
Obedience was.
Finally—
finally—
he spoke.
Quiet.
Almost curious.
“You think you’re surviving.”
The words hit harder than any slap. I squeezed my eyes shut. Breathed through it. Held.
“You’re not.”
Another pause.
Soft.
Deadly.
“You’re breathing because I allow it.”
My throat locked. The collar bit harder. Because he wasn’t wrong. Because somewhere in the hollowed-out places inside me—the places that still bled grief and shame and ruined hope—I already knew.
I wasn’t kneeling to survive. I was kneeling because it was the only place left where the world made sense. Because survival here wasn’t about strength. It was about belonging. It was about ownership.
His.
Not mine.
Never mine again.
Wolfe stepped closer. Boots brushing against my knees. I felt the heat of him. The violence buried under all that control.
I stayed still. Trembling. Breathing. Obedient. He crouched finally. A slow, deliberate folding of power. Brought his mouth close enough that his breath stirred the hair at my temple. Close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin against my bruised cheek.
He didn’t touch me. Didn’t comfort me. Just whispered. “You live because I let you.”
I should’ve felt fear. But all I felt was relief. Because someone finally told me the truth I was built to kneel for.
A beat. A breath. The leash tightening around my ribs.
“And you’ll stay because you were never built to run.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I didn’t let them fall. I stayed kneeling. Because there was no survival outside his hands now. Only silence. Only breath. Only chains I asked for without ever speaking.
Wolfe rose. Left me kneeling. Left me trembling. Left me exactly where he wanted me. And I stayed. Because the truth wasn’t that I couldn’t run. It was that I didn’t want to anymore. Not if it meant losing the only thing that still saw me—even if it was just to own me.