Amber.
My heart was in waves of pain, like it had carved itself into every corner of this room and refused to heal. It wouldn’t piece itself back together.
Not unless Zeden allowed it.
Not until he gave the word. And deep down I knew—he wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
I knew he’d try to break every part of me. Apologize not with words, but with the wreckage he’d leave on my body. To him.
My legs were still spread wide, thighs trembling from the strain. I watched him drag the tip of his gun in a slow, straight line from the muzzle to the grip, the metal catching the dim light as it moved. The motion was deliberate, almost reverent—like he was deciding exactly where to press it next.
I wanted to count to ten.
Close my eyes.
Keep them shut until the only sound left was the deafening crac
