COLLATERAL
The hallway seemed endless.
Polished dark wood stretched beneath Runa's feet, gleaming under soft golden lights that cast long, distorted shadows. Portraits lined the walls—generations of Vales with the same piercing blue eyes. Their gazes were cold, assessing, and eternal; they watched her pass like judges carved into the fabric of time. Every step she took echoed too loudly, the sound of her own heartbeat a frantic drum against the silence of the estate.
A man walked ahead of her—a guard in a suit so sharp it looked like armor. He didn't speak. He didn't look back. He simply led her deeper into the labyrinth, a place that felt alive with the weight of ancient power and quiet, practiced violence.
Jason's voice drifted from behind her, calm and terrifyingly precise.
"You're no guest here," he said. Runa could hear the smirk in his voice without turning around. "You're… collateral. It's a legal distinction, but a vital one. Treat it with the appropriate gravity, Winters."
Runa swallowed hard and managed a small nod. She wasn't sure if she was still allowed to speak, or if her voice had been signed away along with her freedom the moment her father vanished.
They stopped before a wide, heavy door. Inside, the suite was spacious—elegant in a way that felt entirely impersonal. Dark oak floors reflected the twinkling skyline of Los Angeles through floor-to-ceiling windows. A bed draped in charcoal silk stood in the center. It was a bedroom fit for royalty, yet the lack of a lock on the inside of the door made it clear: this was a cage dressed in luxury.
Jason leaned against the marble mantle, arms crossed. His blonde hair caught the light, highlighting the sharp, handsome features that masked a soul of pure entitlement. "Well," he said, taking an unhurried, predatory step toward her. "Look at you. The infamous Winters debt, personified. A bit more fragile than the Ledger suggested."
Her stomach churned. He was handsome, yes, but it was a weaponized beauty designed to make targets hesitate.
"Don't touch me," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Jason laughed, a soft, dry sound. "Careful, little kitten. You'll learn very fast that in this house, 'don't' is a word reserved for people with last names that end in Vale."
"Jason."
The name was spoken like a death sentence. Althea Vale stood in the doorway, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her sapphire eyes like chips of ice. She didn't just enter a room; she commanded the air within it.
Jason's posture didn't just shift; it retracted. The smug confidence he'd been radiating dampened instantly. He stepped back, yielding the floor to the woman who clearly held the leash.
"Of course, sister," Jason muttered, his grin tightening. "Just getting acquainted with the merchandise."
"Enough," Althea said coolly. She turned her gaze to Runa. It wasn't a gaze of hatred, but of cold, professional calculation. "My name is Althea Vale. That is my brother Jason. And the two behind me..."
She gestured to the hallway. A girl with red curly hair and a deceptive, bubbly smile leaned against the doorframe. "I'm Toni!" she chirped, though her cornflower blue eyes held a glimmer. Beside her stood another girl with the same red hair, but her expression was a mask of stone.
"And that is Eli," Althea finished.
"This will be your room," Althea stated.
Runa looked around the opulence, her brow furrowed. "It's... it's not a cell."
Jason let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "Just because it's not a cell doesn't mean it's easy to escape. Go ahead, try the windows. They're reinforced."
"You are not a prisoner," Althea corrected, her voice dropping to a dangerous low. "You are collateral. A prisoner is a liability. Collateral is an asset. We protect assets—as long as they remain compliant."
She stepped closer, the scent of expensive perfume and cold steel clinging to her. "Breakfast is at seven. Sharp. If you aren't at the table, we assume you've tried to leave. And if you try to leave..." She let the sentence hang, the memory of Leo's death earlier that day filling the room. "Don't make us wait."
As they turned to leave, Runa's eyes caught Eli. The girl remained by the window, her gaze fixed not on Runa, but on Jason. She was watching her brother the way a hawk watches a snake—unreadable, unblinking, and entirely focused. It was the look of someone who saw through the charm to the rot underneath.
When Jason finally followed Althea out, Eli's eyes shifted to Runa for a fraction of a second. It wasn't a look of malice, but one of recognition—a silent acknowledgment from one person trapped in a system to another. Then, she vanished into the hall.
Runa stood alone. The silence of the room was heavy, pressing against her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but looking out at the sprawling, guarded estate, she realized with a hollow ache that she didn't even know where "away" was anymore.