By the time the door opens forty minutes later, I'm in agony.
Every muscle is screaming, and sweat is running down my back, but I haven't made a sound.
I haven't begged or cried or called out.
Cassius enters alone, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds final.
He circles me slowly, taking in my position, my struggle to stay still.
"You were told eight p.m."
"I needed to see you."
"What you need is irrelevant. You had an order."
"It's my last night?—"
"Which you're now wasting with punishment instead of pleasure." He stops in front of me, just out of reach. "Though perhaps you prefer it this way. The pain instead of the reward."
"I prefer you," I say, meeting his eyes despite the strain. "However, you'll have me."
Something flickers in his gaze before going cold again.
He reaches out, runs a finger along the collar, barely touching.
"Do you know what this is?"
"A collar."
"It's more than that. It's a consideration collar. My men saw it when you walked in. They know what it means—that I'm considering keeping you past our agreement."
Hope flares in my chest, hot and desperate. "Are you?"
"I was."
Was. Past tense. The word hits like a slap.
"But first, you need to be evaluated. Tested. My men need to agree that you're worth the risk."
"What risk?"
He doesn't answer, just goes to the door and opens it.
Peter, Paul, and Lionel enter.
My breath catches.
They've seen me naked, seen me debased, but this feels different.
It’s more clinical. More serious.
"Gentlemen," Cassius says, leaning against the wall like he's about to watch a business presentation. "The question before us is simple. Is she worth keeping?"
They circle me like sharks, and I try not to tense.
"She's beautiful," Paul says, reaching out to touch my hair before pulling back. "Responsive. Obedient—usually."
"But she's also a liability," Peter adds. "If anyone finds out?—"
