Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eden
The days are dwindling down until the showcase.
Now it’s five days until Vaughn is supposed to walk into that room and prove to the Consortium that he's worthy of their inner circle.
Five days until everything changes, except it's already changed.
Because yesterday, in the library, during what was supposed to be a dress rehearsal for my performance—I told him I loved him.
And he said it back.
And then he said we're not performing.
Said he's choosing me over the inner circle.
I still can't quite believe it's real.
I wake up in his bed—our bed—with early morning light filtering through the windows and his arm around my waist.
Everything feels different now.
Before, I was property.
An acquisition.
Something he owned and trained and prepared for display.
Now I'm—what? His girlfriend? His partner? His choice?
The girl he's willing to give up everything for?
It doesn't make sense.
None of it makes sense.
But it feels real.
Feels like maybe, impossibly, this twisted thing between us has become something else.
Something that looks almost like love.
Vaughn stirs beside me. "You're thinking too loud."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Tell me what you're thinking about."
I turn to face him. Study those ice-blue eyes in the morning light. "I'm thinking about how five days ago, I was terrified of the showcase. And now I'm terrified for completely different reasons."
"What reasons?"
"That you'll change your mind. That you'll realize I'm not worth giving up everything for. That you'll wake up one morning and regret choosing me over the inner circle."
He pulls me closer. "That's not going to happen."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've spent years chasing power. And in the short time I’ve had with you, I've learned that power doesn't mean anything if you're alone. If you don't have something—someone—worth protecting."
"But the Consortium—"
"Fuck the Consortium."
The vehemence in his voice surprises me. "Vaughn—"
"I mean it. Fuck them. Fuck the inner circle. Fuck the whole system that reduces people to acquisitions and measures worth in displays of control. I'm done with it."
"You might not be done with them. They might come after you. After us."
"I know. Which is why we need to talk about what happens next. What the consequences might actually be."
My stomach tightens. "Okay."
He sits up against the headboard, pulling me with him. "The Consortium doesn't forgive rejection. Especially not public rejection at the showcase. When I stand up in front of them and say I'm choosing you over membership—there will be consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"Business pressure, most likely. The inner circle controls significant portions of several industries I work in. They could make things difficult. Freeze me out of deals. Pressure partners to drop contracts. Make my company's growth more challenging."
"Could they destroy you? Like those men destroyed your father?"
"No. My company is too established, too diversified. They could make things harder but they can't destroy me. Not financially."
"What else?"
"Social consequences. I'll be blacklisted from Consortium events. Any friends I've made there will have to distance themselves or risk association. It's a small world at that level of wealth—being cut off from it has ripple effects."
"Sounds like they can hurt you even if they can't destroy you."
"Yes. It won't be pleasant. But it's survivable."
"And me? What happens to me?"
His expression darkens. "They might try to reclaim you."
"What?"
"The Consortium has rules. Acquisitions belong to their purchasers, yes. But if a purchaser rejects the Consortium, they sometimes argue the acquisition should be returned to the collective. Auctioned again to a more worthy member."
Ice floods my veins. "They'd try to take me from you."
"They'd try. They won't succeed."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I won't let them. Because if anyone tries to touch you, tries to take you from me, I'll—" He stops. Takes a breath. "I'll protect you. Whatever it takes."
I'm quiet for a long moment, processing. "You're really willing to risk all of that for me."
"Yes."
"Why? I'm just—I was just some girl at an auction. You didn't even know me. How can I possibly be worth all of this?"
He cups my face with both hands. "You're not just some girl.
You're the woman who survived a cult and an escape and being hunted down and weeks of intensive training without breaking.
You're strong and resilient and brave even when you're terrified.
You're—you're everything, Eden. Everything I didn't know I needed. "
Tears burn behind my eyes. "I don't feel strong."
"You are. Stronger than you know. And I'll spend however long proving that to you."
"What if I offered to just perform? What if I made it easy for you? You could have both—me and the inner circle. I'd do it. I'd perform for them if it meant you didn't lose everything."
"No."
"Vaughn—"
"No. Absolutely not. I don't want both. I want you. Only you. And I want you free from that world, from those men who would see you as property instead of a person. I want you to choose to be with me because you want to, not because you're performing a role."
"I do want to be with you."
"Then that's all that matters. The inner circle can go to hell."
I lean against his chest. Let him hold me. Let myself believe, just for a moment, that this might actually work.
That we might actually survive what's coming.
"Five days," I whisper.
"Five days."
"And then we burn it all down."
"Together."
The next few days pass in a strange blur.
No more training sessions.
No more commands and compliance and practicing for an audience that will never see me perform.
Just—being together.
Learning each other without the structure of captor and captive.
Without the script of owner and acquisition.
Learning who we are when we're just Vaughn and Eden.
It's strange. Disorienting. Like learning to walk after years of crawling.
But it's also beautiful.
We have breakfast together without him telling me I need to eat.
We read in the library without it being a training location.
We walk the grounds without me calculating escape routes.
We're just—together.
And somewhere in those days, I start to understand something about myself.
Something about who I was and who I've become.
I think about the girl I was at the Sanctuary.
Eden Finch, daughter of Thomas Finch, promised to Elder Jacob.
Quiet and obedient and so desperate to be good, to be pure, to be worthy.
Terrified of her own desires.
Ashamed of her own body.
Convinced that wanting anything was sinful.
That girl died the night I ran from the Sanctuary.
Then there was the girl who got captured at the auction.
Terrified and defiant and so determined not to be owned.
Fighting every moment even when fighting was futile.
That girl died during the hunt.
When Vaughn found me in that cabin and dragged me back and showed me that escape was impossible.
The girl who went through training—who learned to kneel and beg and submit—she died too.
Died the moment I realized I wasn't just performing.
Wasn't just complying to survive.
Was actually wanting it. Actually craving his approval. Actually falling for my captor.
And the woman I am now?
She's someone new entirely.
Someone who knows her own desires without shame.
Someone who can kneel without feeling weak.
Someone who chose captivity over freedom because captivity with Vaughn feels more free than freedom without him ever did.
Someone who survived the Sanctuary's programming and Vaughn's training and came out the other side knowing exactly who she is and what she wants.
I want him. All of him.
Not as owner or captor or trainer.
As a partner. As an equal. As the man I love.
It should horrify me.
Stockholm syndrome, they'd call it.
Trauma bonding.
A captive falling for her captor because her brain is trying to make sense of an impossible situation.
Maybe that's part of it.
Maybe I'll never know if this love is real or just psychology playing tricks.
But it feels real.
Feels like the most real thing I've ever experienced.
And maybe that's enough.
Maybe choosing to believe in it, choosing to fight for it, choosing him—maybe that makes it real regardless of how it started.
I'm sitting in the library thinking about all of this when Vaughn finds me.
"I have something for you," he says.
I look up from my book. "What?"
"Come with me."
He leads me upstairs to his bedroom.
Our bedroom.
On the bed is a garment bag I've never seen before.
"What is it?"
"Open it."
I unzip the bag slowly.
Inside is a dress.
Not just any dress.
The most beautiful dress I've ever seen.
Black silk that looks like it costs more than most cars.
Simple but elegant.
Sophisticated.
The kind of dress that would make heads turn in any room.
The kind of dress you'd wear to the Consortium showcase.
"I don't understand," I say. "We're not performing. Why would I need a showcase dress?"
"Because we're still going. We're still attending. We're just not performing. And I want you dressed appropriately. Want them to see exactly what they're losing when I choose you over them."
I run my fingers over the silk. "It's beautiful."
"Try it on."
"Now?"
"Please."
I take the dress into the bathroom, strip off my jeans and sweater, and slip the silk over my head.
It fits perfectly. Of course it does.
Vaughn knows my body better than I do at this point.
The dress clings to every curve.
Modest enough to be elegant but fitted enough to showcase everything.
The neckline is low but not scandalous. The hemline hits just above my knee.
I look like I belong in that world.
Like I could walk into a Consortium event and no one would question my presence.
Like the perfect acquisition, except I'm not an acquisition anymore.
I'm the woman Vaughn Sutherland is choosing over everything else.
I walk out of the bathroom. Watch his face as he sees me.