I lay on the bed, chest heaving, as Alexander hovered over me. His hands pinned my wrists above my head, his body heavy and warm against mine. The rose-gold collar felt like a chain now instead of a comfort.
“Babygirl,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous, “look at me.”
I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision as the video played on repeat in my mind — my mother’s terrified voice begging him.
Alexander gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You’re spiraling. Stop.”
“How can I stop?” My voice broke. “You… you might have killed my mother. The woman who raised me. And I’ve been letting you f**k me, marry me, put babies in me—”
He kissed me hard, cutting off my words. It wasn’t gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the same way he had taken me that very first night. When he pulled bac
