(Evelyn stands before the mirror, pulse racing. The collar is heavier than it looks—a thin band of black leather, with a tiny silver tag hanging from the center. A brand. A warning.
𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂
Take it off.
𝑹𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒂
That’s not how this works.
(She spins to face him, fury in her eyes.)
𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂
I Lost a bet. I didn’t sell my soul.
(He tilts his head, studying her like a wild animal that amuses him.Then, he lifts a small key and dangles it in front of her.)
𝑹𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒂
You want it off? Earn the key.
(Her stomach twists. She should have seen this coming.)
𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂
And how exactly do I do that?
(His smirk is slow, deliberate. Dangerous.)
𝑹𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒂
Be a good girl for me. No fighting. No running. And most importantly…(leans in, whispering) Don’t even think about Adrian.
(Her fingers clench into fists. This isn’t a deal.This is a slow, painful war. And she’s losing.)
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