"Sign it, Ivy. Or I'll have the guards drag you out by your hair."
Silas didn't even look at me. He was too busy polishing his cufflinks, his voice as cold as the marble floor biting into my bare feet. I was shaking. Not from the chill—but because the paper on the mahogany desk wasn't a contract.
It was a bill of sale.
"I won't do it," I spat. My voice cracked, but I kept my chin up. "You can't sell me to the Regent like I'm some fucking piece of livestock."
Silas finally looked at me. His eyes were dead. "You aren't livestock, Ivy. Livestock has value. You're a low-blood defect dragging this family's name through the gutter. You're a liability."
He stepped closer, smelling of expensive cologne and pure malice. He gripped my wrist, fingers digging in like talons. "Sign. Now. Or I'll make sure the debt collectors start with the servants. You want their blood on your hands too?"
I looked at the name on the page. *Cain. The Imperial Regent.*
The air in the room turned heavy. Suffocating. Cain was a monster wrapped in silk—a man who broke people for sport.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the pen. The second the ink hit the page, the double doors crashed open.
He didn't walk in. He invaded.
Cain was taller than the rumors. He wore a black military coat that seemed to swallow the light. His presence was a physical weight, a pressure in my chest that made it hard to breathe. He ignored Silas entirely. Those dark, predatory eyes locked onto mine.
"Is she signed?"
His voice was a low rumble. It didn't just hit my ears; it vibrated in my marrow.
"Yes, Your Excellency," Silas bowed, his voice suddenly oily. "The girl is yours. Every single part of her."
Cain stepped toward me. I tried to scramble back, but Silas pinned my wrist. Cain stopped inches away. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the freezing room. He smelled like ozone and old leather. Dangerous. Wild.
He didn't speak. He just hooked a gloved finger under my chin, forcing my head up. His touch was unyielding. He studied my face like a puzzle he intended to dismantle.
"You're smaller than I expected," he murmured. "And you're shaking."
"I'm not afraid of you," I lied. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Cain's lips curled. Not a smile—a threat. "Lying is a dangerous habit, little bird. Especially when you belong to me now."
His thumb brushed the sensitive skin of my jawline. A jolt of electricity shot through me. It wasn't fear. It was a claim.
"Let her go, Silas," Cain commanded. He never looked away from me.
Silas dropped my arm instantly. I stumbled back, gasping.
"What do you want with me?" I demanded. "You have a thousand slaves in the capital. Why buy a 'defect' from a bankrupt house?"
Cain stepped into my space, erasing the gap. He was so close I could see the golden flecks in his irises. He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.
"Because you're not a defect, Ivy," he whispered. "You're a key. And I've spent a very long time looking for the right lock."
I stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You will," his voice dropped an octave. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll know exactly why your blood is worth more than your family's entire estate."
He grabbed my arm—fast. Too fast. I didn't even have time to scream before he hauled me toward the door. I tripped, my bare heels slapping the cold floor as he dragged me out.
"Wait!" I yelled, digging in my heels. "I can't just leave! My things—"
"You have nothing," Cain snapped. "Your clothes, your name, your pride—they all belonged to the house. Now they belong to me. You leave with nothing because that's how I want you."
He threw me into a black carriage. Rain started to fall, a biting drizzle that soaked through my thin dress in seconds. The velvet interior felt like a trap.
Before I could move, he climbed in after me. The space became claustrophobic. He pinned me against the padded wall, his massive frame blocking the exit. One hand slammed against the wall next to my head. The sound was like a gunshot.
"Look at me," he ordered.
I looked. I couldn't help it. There was a raw, dominant power in his gaze that locked my muscles in place.
"Here's the deal, Ivy," he said, face inches from mine. "In my palace, there are no heirs. No ladies. No 'defects.' There is only the Regent and his property. You eat when I tell you. You speak when I allow it. And you never, ever try to run."
"And if I do?" I whispered. My pulse was drumming in my throat.
Cain's eyes darkened. He shifted, his thigh pressing firmly against mine. He traced the line of my collarbone with agonizing slowness.
"Then I'll remind you why people fear the dark," he murmured. "I don't just break wills, Ivy. I erase them."
He pulled back abruptly. The sudden loss of heat left me exposed.
Hours passed in a blur of jolts and suffocating silence. When we stopped, armored guards hauled me out into a courtyard of black stone and towering spires. It wasn't a palace. It was a tomb.
Cain led me through echoing corridors, his grip on my arm bruising. He stopped at a massive iron-bound door and shoved me inside.
A bed. A washbasin. A flickering lamp. A cell with better linens.
He slammed the door. The bolt slid into place with a final, metallic thud.
Cain began to peel off his black gloves, one finger at a time. He didn't look away. The tension was thick—metallic and sharp.
"You're shivering again," he noted.
"It's cold," I snapped, crossing my arms.
"It's fear," he corrected. He stepped toward me, his bare hand gripping the back of my neck, pulling me close. "I can smell it on you. The terror. The desperation. It's almost... intoxicating."
I tried to pull away, but he was iron. He leaned in, lips hovering a fraction of an inch from my pulse point. A forbidden spark of anticipation flared in my gut.
"Now," he whispered, a dark promise. "Let's see what's actually hiding under all this pride."
He shoved me toward the center of the room and pointed at the floor.
"Strip."
I froze. "What?"
"You heard me," Cain's eyes narrowed. "Everything off. Now. Or I'll have my guards hold you down while I do it myself."