NICOLE
My legs carried me back to my room, but they felt like they belonged to someone else. They were shaky and numb, moving on autopilot while my mind was a thousand miles away, trapped in the space of that hallway.
The quiet, plush corridor seemed to stretch on forever, each closed door a silent witness to my panic.
The door to my room clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, as if I could physically barricade myself against the thought of him. But he was already inside my head.
Kenji.
For four years, he'd been a ghost. A name. A shadow that dictated my life from a distance. I'd built him up in my mind as a monster, sure, but a faceless one. A concept of power and fear. But now… now he had a face. A voice. A presence that sucked all the air out of the room.
My heart was still pounding, a frantic, wild drum against my ribs. I could still feel the ghost of where my forehead had connected with his back. It wasn't a soft impact. It was like hitting a wall of solid, warm marble. And when he turned…
God, he was fucking good-looking.
It was a stupid, irrelevant thought that pissed me off even as it occurred to me. It wasn't a movie-star handsomeness. It was sharper, more dangerous. His jawline was a severe, clean cut, and his hair was as black as the night outside. But it was his eyes that had frozen me. Those piercing blue eyes I remembered from the auction were even more intense up close.
They weren't just cold; they were analyzing, taking in every detail of my disheveled state with a dispassionate, unnerving focus. He hadn't looked at me like a person. He'd looked at me like… like a piece of property he was inspecting for damage.
A cold, dominating presence. That was the only way to describe it. He didn't need to shout or threaten. The sheer stillness of him was a threat. The way he'd looked at my broken phone, not with annoyance, but with a detached assurance that it would be replaced. As if everything could be fixed or acquired with a simple command. Including me.
And then Tokito's words from the prom came rushing back, but they were different now. They weren't just words anymore. They had a face, a voice, a pair of ice-blue eyes attached to them.
"You're going to be his. His everything. He's going to take you. Your time, your attention, your body… all of it."
The terror that washed over me was so complete it was almost peaceful. It was a certainty. A fate sealed. This wasn't a vague worry about the future. This was a countdown. Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days. And then the man with the chilling blue eyes and the voice that left no room for argument would… own me.
I stumbled to the connected bathroom, flipping on the light. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide with a fear I hadn't felt since the warehouse. I looked like the girl I was four years ago.
The scared, hunted animal. I thought I had grown. I thought I had become stronger.
But one encounter with him, one silent, thirty-second collision, and he had stripped all of that away. I was just a thing again. A thing waiting for its owner to finally decide to use it.
I splashed cold water on my face, but it didn't help. The feeling of his skin brushing against mine when he handed me the glasses was still there, a brand on my fingertips. I could still smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne—something dark and expensive, like sandalwood and night air.
I crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head like a child, but there was no hiding. He was everywhere. In the silence of the room, I could hear his voice. "You'll get another one tomorrow." In the darkness behind my eyelids, I could see his eyes.
The worst part, the most terrifying part that I couldn't even fully admit to myself, was the tiny, traitorous flicker in the deepest part of my stomach.
It wasn't just fear. It was a horrible, shocking curl of… attraction. To his power. To his brutal beauty. It was the same part of me that had learned to crave the safety of my cage. And he knew it. He was counting on it.
The fear was a cold knot in my stomach, but underneath it, something else was uncoiling. A low, warm thrum that started deep inside and pulsed outwards, making my skin feel too tight.
Lying on the bed, the memory of Kenji's proximity wasn't just scary anymore. The image of him—the sharp line of his jaw, the sheer power in his stance—replayed in my mind, and this time, the terror got tangled up with a dark, shameful curl of heat.
My heart was still beating too fast, but the rhythm had changed. It wasn't just panic now. It was a frantic, confusing drumbeat that echoed between my legs.
The soft fabric of my pajama pants felt rough, irritating against my suddenly sensitive skin. This strange, aching feeling was taking over, a physical need so strong it was almost louder than the fear.
I was fucking horny
With a shaky hand, I pushed the covers back. The cool air hit my legs as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and slid them off.
The feeling of the smooth sheets against my bare ass was a shock, a little jolt that made me gasp. I let my hands rest on my stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of my breath.
My fingers trembled as I trailed them lower, over the curve of my hip bone, through the soft hair.
My mind was at war. 'He's a monster. He wants to own you.' But my body wasn't listening. It was arching off the bed, seeking a pressure, a release from this unbearable tension.
I thought of the way he looked at me, like he already knew every secret part of me. The dominance in his gaze, instead of just frightening me, now sent a treacherous thrill through my veins. I was wet, aching with a need I barely understood.
'I could just…' I thought, my fingers hesitating at my entrance. 'I could do this myself. Take the edge off. It wouldn't mean anything. It's just my body.' I tried to rationalize it, to separate the physical act from the terrifying man who had provoked it. 'Not everyone bleeds, right? Maybe it wouldn't even matter.'
For a second, I let my finger slid my clit, just a little.
A sharp, electric jolt of sensation made me gasp, and my hips bucked off the mattress involuntarily. It felt so good, a fleeting promise of relief from the storm inside me.
I pressed the my finger againt it. Rubbing a little, a moan catching in my throat. The pleasure was intense, almost painful in its urgency. I was so close to letting myself go, to chasing that feeling and forgetting everything else.
But then, like a bucket of ice water, Tokito's voice was in my head, clear and deadly serious. "He'll want to be the only one who ever… teaches you anything. The only one who makes you feel anything."
My hand froze.
The pleasure vanished, swallowed by a wave of pure, primal fear. It wasn't about disobedience anymore. It was about survival.
What if I made myself bleed? What if, in some way he could just sense, he found out?
The man who killed without blinking. The man who saw people as chess pieces. What would he do to a piece that had dared to play with itself?
The image of his cold, analytical eyes flashed before me, and all the heat in my body vanished. I yanked my hand away as if I'd been burned.
The aching need was still there, a throbbing, frustrated pulse, but it was completely drowned out by the chilling dread.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of my soul. It was a sound of utter defeat.
I dragged my pants back on, the fabric now feeling like a shield. I curled into a tight ball on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I took deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.
The room was silent except for my breathing. I was alone. Truly alone. The emptiness of the room pressed in on me, and a different kind of ache, an old, familiar one, took hold. It was a hollow feeling in my chest, a vast, empty space where a family should have been.
'If only…' I thought, the words a silent scream in the darkness, 'if only I had a family to go back to.' A mother to run to. A father to protect me. Anyone who would care if I lived or died, beyond seeing me as a possession to be kept intact.
But there was nothing. No one. Just me, in a gilded cage, waiting for the wolf to finally decide to come inside.
The tears that came then weren't hot; they were cold, hopeless streaks on my cheeks. I was an orphan in every sense of the word, and the man who owned my future was the closest thing I had to a home. The thought was the most terrifying thing of all.
The memory didn't feel like a story. It felt like a ghost living under my skin, and sometimes, like tonight, it clawed its way out.
Flashback
The ceiling was low and hot, full of dust that made my nose itch. I was eight. I was supposed to be in bed, but the shouting from downstairs had woken me up. Daddy's voice, loud and scared in a way I'd never heard before. Then Momma's, sharp and urgent.
"The ceiling, Nicky! Now! Don't make a sound, baby. No matter what." Momma's hands were shaking as she lifted the panel and boosted me up into the crawlspace. Her eyes were wide, glistening with tears in the sliver of light from the hallway. "No matter what you hear. Promise me."
I promised. I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to be small, as she slid the panel back into place. Darkness. Just a thin line of light from the vent overlooking the living room.
I heard the front door splinter. A crash. Heavy boots on the floor. Deep, angry voices I didn't know.
"Where is she? The girl?"
"There is no girl here," my father said, his voice trembling but firm. "It's just us."
I pressed my eye to the vent. I could see the top of Momma's head. She was standing in front of Daddy.
There was a loud, sharp BANG. It was so loud it hurt my ears. Momma jerked backward and fell. Just… fell. She didn't make a sound.
Daddy screamed her name. A raw, broken sound. Then another BANG. This one was different, thicker sounding. Daddy crumpled to the floor next to her.
Silence.
The men with the boots walked around. One of them kicked Daddy's side. "Told you it was a clean job."
I didn't breathe. I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. The iron taste mixed with the dust in my throat. I didn't make a sound. I kept my promise. I watched the dark, spreading puddles grow around my parents' bodies on the nice rug Momma had just vacuumed. I watched until the men left and the house was quiet, except for a dripping sound I couldn't place.
I stayed there until the sun came up, painting stripes of light over the still forms below. I stayed until a lady from next door started screaming.
Present Day
I curled tighter into a ball on the bed, the memory clinging to me like a shroud. That's why the silence in Kenji's world never scared me. I was born into silence. I learned obedience before I learned long division. Don't make a sound. No matter what.
I was an orphan long before any paperwork made it official. I'd been hiding in ceilings my whole life, watching the world happen below, never allowed to make a sound. And now, the man who owned my future was just another person I had to be silent for.