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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2: The Burning Truth

My bedroom felt less like a sanctuary and more like a holding cell.

I stood in the center of the Persian rug, my heart still slamming against my ribs from the basement ordeal. Pack your bags. You're free.

Free.

The word tasted like ash. What was freedom to a bird born in a cage? I looked around at the things that defined my life: a closet full of designer clothes I had nowhere to wear, shelves of leather-bound books that taught me about a world I'd never seen, and the heavy velvet curtains that always remained drawn.

I didn't know how to hail a taxi. I didn't know how to pay an electric bill. I didn't even know my own Social Security number. Cassian wasn't setting me free; he was executing me.

Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at my throat. I couldn't leave. Not tonight. Not ever. This fortress, with its armed guards and silent hallways, was the only safety I had ever known. And Cassian...

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the heat of his chest against my back in the firing range. The way his voice dropped an octave when he told me to widen my stance. Despite the fear, despite the guns, a traitorous warmth bloomed low in my belly. He was a monster, yes. But he was my monster.

A new resolve hardened my spine. I wasn't going to just walk out the door and die. If he wanted rid of me, he was going to have to drag me out.

I left my room, ignoring the impulse to tiptoe. I headed straight for the one room in the mansion that was explicitly forbidden to me: His study.

The heavy mahogany double doors loomed at the end of the east wing corridor. I didn't knock. I pushed them open.

The smell hit me first—not just the usual scent of aged tobacco and expensive leather, but something acrid. Smoke.

Cassian was standing by the massive stone fireplace. He had shed his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and scarred from years of violence. He was feeding papers into the crackling flames.

He looked up as the door opened, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before the icy mask slammed back into place.

"I didn't summon you, Elena."

"You told me to pack," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I walked into the room, the door clicking shut behind me, sealing us in. "I'm not going."

He stopped, a document hovering over the fire. He slowly turned to face me. The air in the room thickened, heavy with unsaid things.

"Excuse me?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"I said I'm not going." I took another step forward. "You can't just dump me on the street, Cassian. I won't survive a day and you know it."

"That is the point of freedom, little bird. You sink or you swim on your own merits." He threw the papers into the fire. They curled and blackened, but not before I saw the official seal on the top page. A birth certificate. Mine?

"Why now?" I demanded, gesturing to the fire. "Why are you burning things? Why are you kicking me out on the exact day you said the wolves would come for me?"

"Because the wolves are already at the gate!" he roared, his composure finally snapping.

The sudden violence of his shout made me jump back. He stalked toward me, radiating fury.

"Do you think this is a game? Do you think I kept you here for fifteen years just to get bored of you?" He stopped inches from me, looming over me, his breath coming hard. "My enemies know you are here. They know what you are to me. If you stay, they will use you to get to me, and when they are done with you..." He stopped, jaw working. "I cannot protect you anymore, Elena. You have to go."

He was lying. I could see it in the frantic pulse beating in his throat. He wasn't sending me away because he couldn't protect me. He was sending me away because he didn't want to protect me anymore. He didn't want the burden.

Or maybe... he didn't trust himself to keep me.

"No," I whispered.

I did the only thing I could think of. The only thing I knew would stop a man like Cassian Vance cold.

I dropped to my knees.

The silence that fell over the room was deafening. I bowed my head, staring at the polished tips of his expensive Italian shoes. It was surrender. It was manipulation. It was the only weapon I had left.

"Elena," he choked out. "Get up."

"I have nowhere else to go, Cassian," I said to the floor. "You stole my life. You don't get to just give it back now because it's inconvenient. You raised me in this cage. You made me this way."

I slowly looked up through my lashes. His expression was a war zone—rage warring with something darker, hungrier.

"If I go out there, they will kill me," I said softly. "If I have to die, I'd rather die here. By your hand."

A shudder ran through his massive frame. He cursed under his breath—a vicious, filthy sound—and reached down, gripping my chin in his rough hand. He forced my face up, his thumb digging into my jaw hard enough to bruise.

"Do not tempt me, girl," he snarled, his golden eyes burning into mine. "You have no idea what you are asking for. If you stay here, if you force me to keep you... you will never leave these walls again. You will not be my ward. You will be my prisoner in every way that matters."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a mixture of terror and dark thrill twisting in my gut.

"I understand," I whispered.

He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he released my face with a rough shove and stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he breathed, turning away from me to stare into the fire. "God help us both. You stay."

Before I could feel relief, he spoke again, his back still to me.

"But things change. Starting tomorrow, the coddling ends. If you want to survive in my world, Elena, you're going to have to learn how to bleed for it. We leave at dawn."

"Where are we going?" I asked, still on my knees.

He turned his head slightly, just enough so I could see the cruel curve of his jaw.

"To the Auction."

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