The bathroom was blindingly white, all marble and chrome, a stark opposite to the concrete cell below. Jace stood under the scalding spray of the shower, his bruised body trembling, while Damian's hands moved over him with that same clinical efficiency from before. But now it felt different. Now it felt like a reward. Like the gentleness was a leash, and Jace had just put it around his own throat.
"You're so beautiful like this," Damian murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Jace's wet shoulder. "Compliant. Yielding. This is what you were always meant to be."
Jace said nothing. He couldn't. His voice felt like a foreign object lodged in his throat. He simply stood there, letting the water wash away the evidence of his punishment, letting Damian's hands roam wherever they pleased.
When they were done, Damian wrapped him in a thick, soft robe and led him to a bedroom. A guest room in the safe house, decorated in neutral tones. It had a window, barred, looking out onto a dense wall of trees.
"Rest," Damian said, guiding him to the bed. "You'll need your strength."
He didn't leave. He undressed and slid into the bed beside Jace, pulling him against his chest. The warmth was a betrayal of Jace's every instinct, but his body melted into it anyway, starved for comfort after days of cold and pain.
"Sleep," Damian whispered against his hair. "Tomorrow, we begin again. And this time, you'll try."
Jace lay awake long after Damian's breathing evened out into sleep. He stared at the barred window, at the sliver of moonlight, and thought of Luca. Alone in that cell. Bruised. Terrified. Waiting for Jace to fail so he could be punished again.
The trap was perfect. Jace couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't even die because Luca would pay for every absence. Damian had found the one lever that could move the world.
Morning came too soon.
Jace woke to find Damian already dressed, sitting in a chair by the window, watching him. The expression on his face was unreadable not cruel, not kind. Just… patient. Like a man waiting for his investment to mature.
"Good morning," Damian said. "How do you feel?"
Like a corpse that forgot to stop breathing. "Fine," Jace whispered.
"Liar." Damian stood and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Jace's forehead. "But we'll work on that. Today, you have choices to make."
He produced a tablet from the nightstand and handed it to Jace. On the screen was a document titled Terms of Obedience.
"Read it," Damian instructed. "Out loud."
Jace's eyes scanned the words. They were clinical, precise, horrifying.
Rule 1: Jace Carter will address Damian Moreau as "Sir" or "Master" at all times.
Rule 2: Jace will seek permission before eating, drinking, or using the bathroom.
Rule 3: Jace will present himself for inspection each morning and evening.
Rule 4: Disobedience will result in punishment, applied to Jace or, at Damian's discretion, to Luca Moreau.
Rule 5: Jace will not speak of his situation to anyone without explicit permission.
Rule 6: Jace will demonstrate his submission physically, upon request, without hesitation.
Rule 7: Any attempt at escape or self-harm will be considered an act of war against Luca.
It went on. Page after page of surrender, each clause another brick in the wall of his captivity.
"Sign it," Damian said, producing a stylus.
Jace's hand shook. "This is… this is slavery."
"No." Damian's voice was calm. "This is structure. You wanted freedom, Jace. You'll learn that freedom is chaos. This is order. This is knowing exactly what's expected of you. No surprises. No ambiguity. You obey, and you are cared for. Luca is cared for. It's simple."
Jace looked at the dotted line at the bottom of the screen. His signature from the original contract stared back at him, a ghost of his former self. That Jace had believed he could survive with his pride intact. That Jace was dead.
"If I sign this," Jace whispered, "will you let Luca go?"
Damian's eyes flickered with something amusement? Respect? "Let him go? No. But he'll be moved to better quarters. Fed properly. Not touched. His comfort will be directly proportional to your compliance. Think of it as… motivation."
Jace closed his eyes. The tears came anyway, sliding silently down his cheeks.
"Sign it, Jace," Damian murmured, his voice almost tender. "And the pain stops. For both of you."
The stylus felt like a dead thing in his hand. He touched it to the screen, and his name flowed from his fingers like blood from a wound.
Jace Carter.
Damian took the tablet, reviewed the signature, and smiled. It was a warm smile, genuine and terrifying.
"Good boy," he said. He leaned in and kissed Jace, slow and deep, a claiming that left no room for doubt. "Now. On your knees. Show me you mean it."
Jace's body moved before his mind could catch up. He slid off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at Damian's feet, his head bowed. The position was degrading, humiliating and yet, somewhere beneath the shame, there was a sickening flicker of relief. No more decisions. No more fighting. Just this.
Damian's hand came to rest on his head, a benediction. "See? This is where you belong. At my feet. Beneath my hand. You fought so hard against it, and look where it got you." His fingers threaded through Jace's hair. "But you're here now. And I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."
Jace's tears fell onto the expensive carpet, absorbed and forgotten. He was a possession now, in every way that mattered. The contract on the tablet was just paper. This the kneeling, the surrender, the choice made under duress this was the real ownership.
"Now," Damian said, his voice dropping to that intimate register that once made Jace's heart race with something other than fear. "Show me how grateful you are for my mercy. Show me with that pretty mouth."
Jace's hands came up, trembling, to undo Damian's belt. His mind was a silent scream, but his body obeyed. It always obeyed now.
And somewhere, in the cold basement of this house, Luca was paying the price for every moment of hesitation. Jace couldn't save him. He could only try to be perfect enough that Damian never had reason to visit that cell again.
As he knelt there, performing the work of submission, one thought crystallized in the depths of his shattered psyche
One day. One day, I'll find a way to end this. Even if it ends me too.
But for now, he was Damian's. Completely, Terribly, Forever.