Chapter 7 #3
The flap is tucked in loosely, like he's read it recently and put it back.
I shouldn't.
I really, really shouldn't.
But my hands are already pulling out the card inside before my brain can catch up and stop them.
Heavy cardstock.
Embossed lettering in gold that catches the afternoon light streaming through the windows.
The Consortium Cordially invites you to the Spring Gathering March 15th, 2026 The Estate at Blackhaven.
Inner circle members are expected to attend with their acquisitions.
Acquisitions.
The word makes my skin crawl.
Dress code: Black tie
Programming includes:
- Welcome reception, acquisition showcase, talent demonstrations, and private networking opportunities
My hands start shaking so badly I almost drop the card.
Acquisition showcase.
Talent demonstrations.
What does that mean?
What are they going to make us do?
I flip the card over with trembling fingers.
There's more text on the back, smaller print.
This year's showcase will highlight the training and development of recent acquisitions. Members should prepare their companions to demonstrate obedience, skill, and devotion. Performances will be judged by the inner circle. Outstanding demonstrations will be recognized and rewarded.
The card falls from my fingers, floating down to land on the desk.
Obedience. Skill. Devotion.
Performances.
They're going to parade us like show dogs.
Like trained animals performing tricks for an audience.
And Vaughn—
Oh God.
The vibrator. The books. The patience.
The questions about what I want, what I'm ready for, what feels good.
The way he touches me just enough to make me want more.
The way he's teaching my body to respond to him.
He's training me.
Not to liberate me.
Not to help me heal from the Sanctuary's damage.
Not because he cares about my pleasure or my recovery.
To perform.
To demonstrate in front of a room full of men who buy women like I was bought.
To prove he's successfully trained his acquisition to be obedient and skilled and devoted.
To show off his investment.
My stomach lurches violently.
I press my hand against my mouth, fighting nausea that threatens to overwhelm me.
Three weeks.
The gathering is in three weeks.
And tonight—tonight he's going to "show me more."
Going to continue my training.
Going to teach my body to respond to him so perfectly, so completely, that I'll be able to perform on command for an audience of predators.
I am so fucking stupid.
So incredibly, pathetically, desperately stupid.
I thought maybe he was different.
Thought maybe the patience meant something real.
Thought maybe when he looked at me, he saw a person instead of property.
Thought maybe—
It doesn't matter what I thought.
The invitation tells me everything I need to know.
Tells me the truth I've been too blind or too desperate to see.
I'm not a person to him.
Not someone he cares about or wants to help heal.
I'm an investment.
A purchase he needs to break in, to train, to prepare for a showcase before the spring gathering where he'll prove to the Consortium's inner circle that he deserves his place among them.
Just like Elder Jacob, who wanted to marry me to prove his status in the Sanctuary.
Just like my father, who promised me to Elder Jacob to secure his own position among the elders.
Just like every man at the Sanctuary who saw women as property to be controlled and displayed and used to demonstrate their power.
Vaughn Sutherland is just better at wrapping the cage in silk and calling it freedom.
Better at making me want my own captivity.
Better at training me to love my chains.
I back away from the desk, my breath coming too fast, the room spinning around me.
I need to get out of here.
I need to leave this office before he comes back and finds me snooping.
I need to think, to process, to figure out what to do with this information.
Need to—
Voices.
I can hear voices from the foyer. Movement. Footsteps.
Someone's here.
My heart hammers as I slip out of Vaughn's office as quietly as possible, closing the door to exactly how I found it—slightly ajar.
I move toward the sound, drawn by something I can't name.
Curiosity. Desperation.
The wild hope that maybe, somehow, this is my chance.
A delivery truck is parked in the circular drive.
I can see it through the tall windows that flank the front door.
Two men in work uniforms are carrying boxes—large ones, furniture maybe, or supplies for the house.
Callum is there in the foyer, directing them with his usual authority.
Telling them where to put things, signing paperwork, completely focused on the task at hand.
And the front door—
The front door is propped open.
Wide open.
Held in place with a doorstop so the delivery men can move freely in and out.
For the first time since I arrived at this estate ten days ago, there's nothing between me and freedom except twenty feet of marble floor and my own fear.
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, in every nerve of my body.
This is it.
This is my chance.
Maybe my only chance.
Because if I stay—if I let tonight happen, if I go to Vaughn's room and let him touch me again, let him show me more, let him deepen his control—I'll be lost completely.
I'll want it too much to leave.
I'll need him too much to run.
I'll become exactly what that invitation described: obedient, skilled, devoted.
His perfect acquisition, trained to perform.
And in three weeks, I'll stand in front of the Consortium's inner circle and demonstrate my submission like a good little purchased woman.
No.
Fuck that.
I won't do it.
Won't be that.
Won't let Vaughn turn me into a trained pet for the entertainment of men who see women as property.
I don't think, don't plan.
I don't grab money or supplies or anything except the clothes on my back.
I just move.
Walk toward the open door like I belong there.
Like I'm supposed to be going outside.
Like this is completely normal and no one should question it.
My footsteps are silent on the marble floor.
I force myself to walk, not run.
To look casual. To not draw attention.
Callum is arguing with one of the delivery men about something—where to put a piece of furniture, probably.
His back is to me, his attention completely focused on the discussion.
The other delivery man is out by the truck, loading something onto a dolly.
Not looking at the house.
Not paying attention to anything except his work.
Fifteen feet to the door.
Ten.
Five.
I'm at the threshold.
One foot on the marble floor inside.
One foot on the stone step outside.
No one has noticed me yet.
No one is stopping me.
This is real. This is actually happening.
I step outside completely.
Both feet on the front steps now.
In the open air for the first time in ten days.
The afternoon is cool and bright.
Spring sunshine is warming my face.
I can smell grass and trees and earth and freedom.
Behind me, I hear Callum say something.
A question, maybe.
A sharp "Hey—"
But I'm already running.
Down the steps, my feet flying.
Across the circular drive, gravel crunching under my shoes.
Toward the tree line that borders the manicured grounds.
Someone shouts.
Callum, definitely.
Realizing too late that I'm gone, that I've slipped past him, that the open door was an opportunity I took.
But I don't stop.
Don't look back.
Don't let fear or second thoughts or the memory of Vaughn's hands on me slow me down.
I just run.
The forest closes around me like a refuge.
Trees and undergrowth and blessed, beautiful cover that hides me from view.
I can hear shouting behind me now.
Callum, probably calling for backup.
Maybe calling Vaughn.
Definitely mobilizing to come after me.
But I have a head start.
And I'm fast when I'm running from something.
I've done this before—ran from the Sanctuary in the middle of the night, made it all the way to Little Rock before Sarah caught me.
I can do it again.
I have to do it again.
Because behind me is Vaughn and the cage and the slow, seductive surrender to something I can't let myself want.
Behind me is training and performance and becoming someone's obedient acquisition.
Behind me is losing myself completely.
And ahead—
Ahead is unknown.
Dangerous. Probably impossible.
But it's mine.
My choice. My risk. My freedom.
Even if it only lasts a couple of days.
Even if he finds me and drags me back.
Even if this is the stupidest thing I've ever done.
At least I'll know I tried.
At least I'll know I chose to run instead of choosing to stay.
At least I'll have these moments of freedom, however brief, however doomed.
I run until I can't hear the estate anymore.
Until the trees are thick enough that I can't see the house even if I look back.
Until my lungs are burning and my legs are shaking and I have to stop or collapse.
Then I lean against a tree trunk, bark rough under my palms, and try to catch my breath.
Try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do next.
Because I'm free.
For the first time in my entire life—not under the Sanctuary's control, not promised to Elder Jacob, not locked in Vaughn's gilded cage—I'm actually free.
No one is telling me what to think. What to believe. What my body should or shouldn't want.
Just me.
Alone in a forest with no money, no phone, no plan, no idea where I am or how to get anywhere.
But free.
The thought makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
I hear sounds in the distance.
Voices, definitely.
Maybe vehicles.
They're organizing.
Coming after me.
Of course they are.
Vaughn paid two million dollars for me.
He's not going to let me just walk away.
And the Consortium gathering is in three weeks.
He needs me trained and ready.
He'll come for me.
He'll hunt me down.
He'll find me.
But not yet.
Not right now.
Right now, I have the advantage.
I push off the tree.
Start running again, deeper into the forest, no destination in mind except away.
Away from Vaughn.
Away from the cage.
Away from the woman I was becoming under his careful, patient, devastating control.
I don't know how long I can stay ahead of them.
Don't know if I can even make it out of these woods before they catch me.
But I have to try.
I have to prove to myself that I can choose something other than the golden cage and the silk sheets and the pleasure that comes with a price I'm not willing to pay.
Even if that choice is impossible.
Even if I only get one day of freedom before he finds me.
I run deeper into the forest, branches catching at my clothes, undergrowth grabbing at my feet.
I don't look back.
Don't let myself think about what I'm leaving behind.
Don't let myself remember how it felt when Vaughn touched me.
Don't let myself want what I can't have without losing everything.
Just run.
Into the unknown.
Into danger.
Into freedom.
However temporary.
However doomed.
It's mine.
And no one can take it from me.