Chapter 10 Cloe
CLOE
The dress was black. Satin. Backless. High neckline. It whispered across my skin. Too soft against the bruises mottling my ribs. Too expensive for someone kneeling on the floor hours earlier.
Wolfe fastened the clasp at my nape himself. Silent. Efficient. The tiny brush of his knuckles against my hair sent a tremor down my spine I couldn’t stop.
Not fear. Not anticipation. Something worse. Something that tasted like submission and regret all at once.
His fingers brushed the hidden chain under the fabric. The collar. Still there. Still tight. My breath caught when his thumb dragged briefly across the metal. A reminder. A warning.
His hand left it. But it stayed hot. Because the absence of his touch was just as commanding as the weight of it.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
His voice was colder than the silk I wore. I nodded once. Tiny. Tight. Pain blooming along the strained muscles of my neck.
“Keep your eyes down.”
Another leash looped around my spine. Another invisible knot tying me closer to the ground. I didn’t dare lift my gaze. Didn’t dare meet his eyes in the mirror. I saw enough without looking.
The reflection of him. Tall. Immovable. More force of nature than man.
And me.
A figure hollowed out in black silk. A thing dressed up to be paraded.
I adjusted the hem of the dress. My fingers brushed the fresh scabs on my thigh. The ache throbbed deeper with the contact.
Pain made it easier to remember who I was now.
Not Cloe Woods. Not Camille’s best friend. Not even Wolfe’s broken pet. Just obedience. Wrapped in satin. Breathing on command.
Wolfe turned away without another word. Without another glance. Because I didn’t need approval. Only permission to exist.
“Come.”
I followed. Silent. Shoes in hand. The walk to the elevator felt longer than it should have. Every step an exercise in remembering the rules.
Head down.
Mouth closed.
Breath shallow.
The ride down was silent. I watched the numbers blink by through my lashes. Not daring to lift my head. Not daring to breathe too loudly. At the lobby, a car was already waiting.
Black. Polished to a mirror shine. A beast crouched at the curb.
Royal lounged in the backseat. Suit open at the collar.
Smile already lazy and dangerous. His last words resounded in my head this is Wolfe’s test. I lifted my gaze to him for a second catching the dangerous glint.
He expected me to fail…hoped I’d fail. I swallowed hard.
That wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t care if I had to bleed all over the goddamn floor.
Loyal sat beside him. Hands folded. Posture too stiff.
Tension bleeding off him in waves that prickled my bruised skin.
Neither spoke as Wolfe guided me inside.
I slid into the backseat without needing to be told.
Royal’s gaze dragged over me immediately. Slow. Calculating. The dress hid the bruises. The collar didn’t. Not from them. Not from men who already knew what it cost to own me.
The air inside the car was too warm. Or maybe I was. Sweat clung to the backs of my knees. My ribs ached under the pressure of sitting upright. The collar chafed against the base of my throat when I swallowed.
I kept my eyes down. Focused on the carpeted floor. On the neat hem of Wolfe’s trousers. On the faint scuff on Royal’s expensive shoes. Anything but their faces. Anything but the look in their eyes.
The look that said:
You chose this.
The car pulled into traffic. I folded my hands in my lap. Tucked my elbows in. Made myself smaller.
Breath.
Hold.
Breath.
Hold.
Every inhale hurt.
Every exhale felt like surrender.
The car hit a bump and pain flared through my ribs. A gasp clawed up my throat. I swallowed it down. Because pain wasn’t permission to speak. Because pain wasn’t special here.
It was normal.
Expected.
Owned.
Wolfe said nothing. Royal chuckled low once.
A private sound. I didn’t ask why. Didn’t dare.
Because tonight wasn’t about survival. It wasn’t even about obedience.
It was about proving what I was willing to bleed for.
And Wolfe had already decided I would bleed beautifully. Whether anyone else saw it or not.
The car slowed. The brakes whispered. The tires crunched against the polished stone drive. I kept my eyes lowered. My hands folded tightly in my lap.
The collar pressed against the base of my throat. A pulse. A brand. A chain.
Wolfe stepped out first. I heard the hush of the door. The low murmur of event staff scrambling to greet him.
Royal followed. A soft laugh under his breath. Sin wrapped in expensive fabric. Loyal moved silently beside them.
Then—Wolfe’s voice. “Out.”
One word.
I obeyed. Not because I wanted to. Because I didn’t know how not to anymore.
The air hit me like a slap. Cool night. Colder stares. The Lawlor building loomed over the city—glass and gold and legacy sharpened to a knife.
A carpet stretched ahead of me. Velvet. Blood red. Footsteps scuffed across it. Cameras flashed. Bright. Blind. I didn’t look. I didn’t blink. I kept my eyes down, the way Wolfe ordered.
The dress whispered against my thighs as I moved. Every step careful. Controlled. Every breath catching against bruised ribs. The collar chafed when I lifted my chin just enough to follow Wolfe. The diamonds at my ears and throat sparkled under the lights.
Hiding the leash.
Barely.
Because no matter how many jewels they draped me in—the collar would never be invisible to them. Not the men who already owned me. Not the women who would whisper behind raised glasses.
The marble foyer gleamed under soft golden chandeliers. People clustered in careful circles. Smiling. Sipping. Measuring.
I could feel the eyes starting. Dragging over my skin. Slipping over the silk. The hush that followed us wasn’t reverence. It was calculation. Judgment. Who is she? Why is she with them? Why does she walk like she’s leashed?
Wolfe didn’t slow. Didn’t acknowledge. He moved like the world rearranged itself around him. And I—I moved behind him.
Silent.
Invisible.
Until I wasn’t.
A woman in a gold dress turned as we passed. Her gaze skimmed me. Sharp. Cool. She smiled at Wolfe. Tight. Polished. Then looked back at me. And smiled wider.
“Beautiful,” she said.
I bowed my head lower. Because she wasn’t admiring me. She was assessing me. Like women do before they take something they know they can ruin.
Because I knew she didn’t mean the dress. She meant the collar. The bruises she couldn’t see but could feel radiating off my skin. The ownership threaded into every step I took.
Royal caught the woman’s eye and smirked. Lazy. Cruel. He knew. Of course he knew. Loyal said nothing. But I felt him behind me. The slow, weighted breath he dragged through his nose. As if the sight of me—silent, bruised, collared—cost him something he didn’t have the strength to pay.
The ballroom doors opened ahead. And the world shifted again. Music. Low. Distant. Champagne glasses clinked. Laughter floated under the chandeliers like poisoned air.
Men in suits turned to look. Women in gowns glanced once. Twice. Measuring. Judging. I didn’t lift my head. Not because I was scared. Because I was trained. Because Wolfe hadn’t given permission to see anything beyond the carpet.
We crossed the marble. Past couples in whispered conversations. Past investors and executives and old bloodlines built on sharper sins. Every step I took, I felt the weight of the collar under the diamonds.
The rough edge of the chain hidden by silk. Every breath I drew felt borrowed. Every glance brushed against me like a blow. I didn’t falter. Because shame wasn’t weakness anymore. It was obedience. And obedience was survival.
Royal leaned down once—lips brushing the shell of my ear without touching. “Smile, sweetheart,” he murmured. “They like it better when you pretend you want it.”
My cheeks burned. But I didn’t smile. Because Wolfe hadn’t said to. Because Wolfe didn’t need me to pretend.
He already owned every breath. He didn’t need me to look like I loved it. Only to stay silent while it consumed me.
The ballroom pulsed around me. Laughter. Champagne. A hundred conversations stitched into the golden air. I stayed behind Wolfe. Eyes down. Hands at my sides. Steps measured. The collar sat heavy at my throat. Hidden under diamonds.
But I felt it. Every time I swallowed. Every time I breathed. The leash tightening. The silk whispering across bruised skin.
We moved through the crowd. Shadows parted for Wolfe. Bent themselves to the gravity he wore like a second skin. But they didn’t part for me. They noticed me. They stared. Whispers drifted in low currents.
Soft.
Sharp.
“Looks young.”
“New toy?”
“No ring.”
The words slipped over my skin like knives drawn slow. I didn’t lift my head. Didn’t breathe too deeply. Just counted my steps. One. Two. Three. Each one a prayer for stillness.
Royal lingered behind me. A step too close. Close enough that when I stumbled once—just a hitch of breath against the pain in my ribs—his hand brushed the small of my back.
Not to steady me.
Not to help.
Just to remind me.
“Careful,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. “Pets don’t stumble. It makes us look cheap.”
Heat scorched the back of my neck. Not from his words. From the shame. Because he was right. I wasn’t supposed to stumble. I wasn’t supposed to bleed.
I was supposed to survive beautifully.
Silently.
Obediently.
His.
A server passed. Champagne flutes gleaming under the chandeliers. Wolfe took one. Didn’t drink. Just held it like a king surveying a kingdom he didn’t trust.
Royal took two. Handed one to Loyal with a smirk. “Drink up,” he said lazily. “Might be the last party we get to enjoy.”
Loyal didn’t respond. He took the glass. Sipped. Didn’t look at me. But I felt him. Felt the weight of his gaze dragging over the bruises hidden under silk. Felt the breath he dragged slow through his nose, like it cost him.
Another whisper floated past.
Closer.
Cruler.
“Is that the best they could buy?”
“Thought Barron had better taste.”
“Maybe Wolfe’s standards slipped.”
My stomach twisted. The collar burned against my skin.
I wanted—God, I wanted—to disappear.
To sink into the marble. Into the walls. Into anything that wasn’t the burning stare of the world. But I stayed standing. Breathing. Because Wolfe hadn’t told me to stop. Because even humiliation was obedience. Because even shame was survival now.
Royal leaned down again. Closer this time. His breath stirred the loose strands of hair at my nape. “That’s it, make it pretty,” he whispered. “They’re already deciding how much you’re worth.”
Wolfe shifted beside me. Subtle. Commanding. The small motion pushed me two steps closer to him. Under his shoulder. Under his shadow. I stayed there. Grateful. Broken. Invisible again—but only because he allowed it.
The whispers kept coming. They would never stop.
Not tonight. Maybe not ever. Because no matter how many diamonds they draped me in—everyone here already knew.
I didn’t belong to the silk. I didn’t belong to the ballroom.
I didn’t even belong to the brothers who stood beside me.
I belonged to the leash. And they could all see it.
The ballroom blurred. Laughter. Clinking glasses. Silk swirling against marble. I kept my head down. Hands pressed to my sides. Breathing through the pain wrapped around my ribs. Breathing through the silk that clung to bruises not yet healed.
The collar chafed at my neck under the diamonds. Wolfe spoke low to someone near the entrance. Formal. Controlled. A titan conducting business under chandeliers.
Royal drifted closer to a group of investors. His lazy grin cutting sharper than any blade. Loyal lingered near the far wall. Silent. Watching me from under his lashes.
I stayed still. The obedient figure behind them. The breathing shame stitched into their shadows. More whispers floated past. Sharper now. Hungrier.
“Selene must be laughing herself sick.”
“First the sister. Now the pet.”
“Maybe the Lawlors like their toys broken.”
I didn’t flinch. Not outwardly. But inside—the leash twisted.
A slow, sharp knot pulled tight against my spine. The name stung more than I expected.
Selene.
A ghost that never really left. A knife still lodged in the cracks Camille left behind.
I swallowed hard. The collar bit deeper. .
The conversation shifted. New hands shook. New glasses clinked. But the chill didn’t fade. It deepened. Spread. Across my shoulders. Down my spine. A wrongness blooming cold and thick in the back of my throat.
I kept my head bowed. I didn’t search the crowd. Didn’t dare. But the hairs along my arms lifted anyway.
The air changed. The way it used to when Camille walked into a room angry. Or when Wolfe stepped close enough to shatter. The crowd shifted, subtly.
A ripple.
A reaction.
And in the corner of my eye—a flash of gold.
Not the way Royal wore it. Not the way Wolfe’s cufflinks caught light. Different. Rougher. Sharper than the silk and glass around it.
My throat locked. The mat burned against my knees in memory. The cold leash tightened. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe differently. Because Wolfe was standing only a few feet away. Because Royal was watching. Because Loyal was already bleeding guilt into the floorboards.
But I felt it. The prickle at the back of my neck. The weight of eyes that knew too much. A shadow stitched into gold satin and the scent of something sweet rotting underneath.
The bitch.
Not close enough to touch. Not close enough to speak. Just close enough to be seen. Or maybe—just close enough to make sure I knew she was always watching.
Always waiting.
And if Wolfe’s leash slipped for even a second—she would rip my throat out with her teeth.
I stayed still. Breathing. Obedient. Because even if Selene dragged the past into the marble under my feet—it wouldn't matter.
Because Wolfe owned the present. Wolfe owned the leash. And if I obeyed well enough—maybe he would never let me go. Maybe that was the only kind of safety left. Not freedom. Not love. Just the comfort of a leash held by someone cruel enough to keep me alive.