Chapter 15 #3
My throat tightens immediately. There it is—the leash that’s always wrapped around my neck. My father owes money, and I’m the fucking payment. Simple as that.
Sebastian’s fingers curl gently against the back of my neck before he leans down and kisses me.
The kiss is soft. That’s what makes this all confusing, because Sebastian never acts cruel afterward.
Not immediately. Afterward he turns sweet and warm in ways that blur together until I can’t tell affection from ownership anymore.
He kisses me slowly, like I’m something precious to him, like I belong beneath his hands. “You’re so good for me,” he whispers against my mouth.
My chest hurts. I don’t know if it’s from the bruises or something else entirely. Sebastian presses another kiss against my forehead, then pulls back enough to look at me again.
“I missed you this week.”
I stare at him quietly, because he talks like we’re dating.
Like this is love. Maybe it is.
Meanwhile, my body still aches from another man’s hands because Sebastian decided I was worth more as a commodity than a person tonight. The confusion of it all sits like poison inside my ribs.
“You should sleep,” Sebastian murmurs.
His hand slides down my throat carefully, his thumb brushing one of the bruises there almost tenderly. Then he smiles slightly. God, that smile used to ruin me. Back before I understood what he really was. Before I realized love wasn’t supposed to feel like barely surviving.
“I’ll take care of everything,” he says softly.
The lie settles between us beautifully.
And eighteen-year-old me almost believes him anyway.
Then another memory crashes into it.
I find out by accident. Not because my father finally grows a conscience. Not because Sebastian suddenly decides to stop lying to me. I find out because two men are talking outside the back office while I grab cigarettes for Sebastian.
“Kid already earned enough to clear Henry’s debt and the interest two months ago,” one of them says casually.
The other laughs. “Sebastian just doesn’t wanna let his favorite toy go.”
They both laugh after that. I stop walking. For a second, the hallway feels strangely tilted beneath my feet. My grip tightens around the cigarette carton hard enough to crush the cardboard. Heat rushes into my face so violently that I feel sick.
Because every hotel room after that debt was repaid…
Every stranger…
Every bruise…
Every night Sebastian kissed me afterward and told me I was “helping…”
None of it mattered.
I’d already paid the debt.
And Sebastian kept selling me anyway.
Sebastian is sitting at the kitchen table when I get back to the apartment above the bar.
The place smells like whiskey and cigarette smoke, same as always.
A football game plays quietly on the television while Sebastian flips through paperwork with a drink in his hand like this is a normal fucking night.
“There you are,” he says without looking up. “Thought you got lost.”
I throw the cigarettes onto the table harder than necessary.
Sebastian finally glances up. The second he sees my face, his expression sharpens. “What happened?”
I stare at him from across the room. “I already paid off the debt.”
Silence stretches between us.
Sebastian leans back slowly in his chair. “Who told you that?”
The fact that he answers with another question tells me everything. My chest starts hurting.
“You lied to me.”
Sebastian exhales quietly through his nose, like I’m being difficult. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“No,” I snap. “It really fucking isn’t.”
His eyes narrow immediately. Usually when Sebastian looks at me like that, I shut up. I learned quickly that pushing back only made things worse. Tonight feels different. Tonight I finally understand what he actually is.
“I earned enough to pay off every cent my father owed you,” I say. “The debt. The interest. Everything.”
Sebastian says nothing. That silence confirms it all. Every night after the debt was gone, he kept me there because he wanted to. Not because he had to.
“You told me once I paid it off, I’d be done.”
Sebastian sets his drink down carefully. “I changed my mind.”
The words hit me so hard that I actually laugh. The sound comes out cracked and ugly.
“You changed your mind?” I repeat.
“You belong here. With me.”
“No.”
Sebastian stills. I don’t think I’ve ever told him no before.
Not really. I’ve argued. I’ve cried. I’ve begged him to let me rest after bad nights. But I always folded eventually, because I thought there would be an ending to this if I could just survive long enough.
Now I know that was never going to happen.
“You don’t own me,” I say.
Sebastian stands slowly. Every survival instinct in my body tells me to stop talking immediately. I don’t.
“You let those men touch me even after the debt was gone.”
“You’re everybody’s favorite whore, Damien. I can’t just take you off the menu.”
The word whore sinks into my skin.
“I made enough.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “I take care of you, don’t I?”
“You fucking sell me!”
“Watch your mouth.”
“You told me you loved me.”
“I do.” The answer comes instantly, and somehow that makes everything worse.
Because Sebastian genuinely believes that. In his mind, this twisted thing between us actually counts as love. I finally see it clearly. Every soft touch, every kiss, every time he held me after another man hurt me—none of it was kindness. It was ownership.
“You’re not leaving,” Sebastian says firmly.
“I am.”
“You think the world’s going to be kinder to you without me?”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” He steps closer. “Nobody else is going to want you after this. Nobody is going to fucking love you besides me.”
The words hit exactly where he intends them to. Sebastian sees the hurt flash across my face, and immediately presses harder.
“You think you can just walk away and become normal again?” he asks quietly. “After everything you’ve done?”
Rage surges through me so violently that it finally burns through the fear. “I didn’t do anything,” I snap. “You did.”
“I wasn’t the one who sucked all of those cocks, sweetness. That was all you.”
I move to leave, but Sebastian grabs the back of my neck. Pain shoots down my spine.
“You ungrateful little shit.”
Usually this is where I freeze. Usually I go quiet and just survive whatever happens next.
Tonight I can’t. Something inside me finally breaks apart completely.
I shove him hard.
Sebastian stumbles backward in obvious shock, because I’ve never fought him before. Not once.
“What the fuck?—”
“I’m done.”
“You walk out that door and I’ll drag you back.”
The terrifying part is that I believe him. I know exactly what Sebastian is capable of when he loses control of something he thinks belongs to him. But staying suddenly feels worse than dying.
I grab my duffel bag from beside the couch.
Sebastian catches my wrist. “You’re nothing without me,” he snarls.
I rip my arm free. “I’d rather be nothing than with you.”
Then I run down the apartment stairs and out into freezing rain while Sebastian shouts after me. My lungs burn before I even reach the end of the block, but I keep going anyway.
For the first time in months, I choose myself over survival. And the next morning, before Sebastian can find me, I leave town.
I gasp hard enough that my chest hurts. The apartment spins around me again.
Present. I’m in the present. Not there. Not eighteen.
But my father’s finger is still on the floor.
The note is still real.
Sebastian found me.
My father…
Jesus Christ.
My father.
I grab my phone with hands shaking so violently I almost drop it.
Atlas. I need Atlas. I pull up our messages automatically.
Then I stop, because a horrifying realization crashes into me.
Sebastian knows where I am.
And if he knows where I am, then Atlas isn’t safe.
Panic floods my chest so fast I can barely breathe. I type before I can think.
Me: not coming over tonight
Three dots appear immediately.
Atlas: seriously?
Atlas: I was just playing around earlier, honey.
I stare at the screen. My vision blurs badly.
Honey. Sweetness. I feel sick.
The phone rings. Atlas’s name blinks on my screen, and I answer instantly.
“Baby—”
“You can’t talk to me anymore.” The words come out sharp and frantic.
There’s a moment of silence.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Damien, what happened?”
My breathing turns uneven. I can’t tell him. I can’t drag him into this.
“You need to stay away from me.”
“Absolutely not.” His voice sharpens. “Honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Baby. Sweetness. Honey.
“You’re not my fucking boyfriend, Atlas. Just leave me alone.”
“Damien—”
“You don’t get it!” I snap. My chest heaves painfully. “You think this is some fucking romance movie where everything works out because you love me enough?”
Atlas goes quiet. “Damien, is this about Sebastian?”
I laugh harshly, almost hysterically.
“Let me help you.”
“You can’t.”
“Try me.”
My eyes burn suddenly, because he means it. Atlas would absolutely try to save me if I let him. And Sebastian would destroy him for it.
He’d kill him.
“You should’ve listened to me at the fundraiser,” I say quietly. “This was never real.”
The silence afterward physically hurts.
Then Atlas says softly, “That’s not true.”
I close my eyes hard. “Stop calling me.”
“Damien—”
I hang up before he can hear my voice break. The apartment falls silent again except for my breathing. The finger still sits on the kitchen floor beside the overturned box.
A warning.
A promise.
My knees finally give out.
I slide down against the cabinets hard enough to bruise while panic tears through me violently now that Atlas’s voice is gone.
Sebastian found me.
Sebastian found me.
Sebastian found me.
I press both hands against my face and finally break completely.
Because no matter how far I ran—no matter how much hockey or money or fame I built around myself—I was never actually free.