Page 190 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
A self-made man who refused to play by the rules, who tore through obstacles with sheer force of will, and who bet on himself when no one else would. A man who saw what he wanted and took it unapologetically and fearlessly.
People called him reckless. Uncontrolled.
But he turned his defiance into billions.
And my mother—she was the one thing he could never conquer.
The thought hits me suddenly, rattling something loose inside me.
What if I’m more like her than I ever imagined?
A woman drawn to power, to a man who refused to kneel.
Did my mother submit to him in the way I surrender to Gabe and Hank?
The thought curls through me, unsettling.
Exciting.
Because if it’s true—if she craved the same dark intensity that pulls at me now—then maybe this isn’t some inexplicable part of me, some strange compulsion I can’t explain.
Maybe it’s in myblood.
I swallow hard, staring at the phone in my hand, my father’s voice still in my ear.
But suddenly, I don’t know what to say.
His laughter is genuine, if a bit watery. “I just need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m getting there.” I think about Kazakhstan, about powerlessness and strength. About how Hank and Gabe never make me feel anything but strong. “I’m healing.”
With them, I’ve discovered the paradox my father could never comprehend—that my submission isn’t a weakness but the ultimate expression of power.
When I kneel before them, when I surrender my body and will, I’m exercising the most profound control I’ve ever known.
In Kazakhstan, I was deprived of choice. With Hank and Gabe, every surrender is mine to give, every “yes, Sir,” a declaration of my autonomy.
I meet their dominance with an overwhelming force of my own—the power to give myself completely and without reservation. It’s the one place in my life where I exercise complete control, even when I appear to have none at all.
Sometimes, I wonder if Hank and Gabe fully understand this—that when they think they’re conquering me, I’m actually claiming the most authentic form of freedom I’ve ever known.
But if anyone could understand this contradiction, it would be them.
They see me with eyes that look beyond surface appearances, beyond theconventionalunderstanding of power and control. They see the strength it takes to yield, the courage required to trust so completely.
“I’m worried. I don’t want what happened to derailyour dreams.”
“Don’t be. I’m safe. I’m happy. And my dreams aren’t derailed. They’re just on hiatus.”
“You’re right. I need to stop thinking of you as my little girl and remember that you’re a grown woman making her own choices. Please tell me you’re safe.” He clears his throat.
“I couldn’t be safer.”
“And the coffee shop?”
“It’s better than good. It keeps me busy while waiting for Dr. Whittman. You do remember that he asked to take time off? I wasn’t the one who asked.”
“I remember.”
