The routine had become a cage of its own.
Every morning began the same way: Gaius unchained her from the bedpost, watched her wash and dress in the plain servant clothes he now chose for her, then looped the thin leather leash through the hidden collar. She followed two steps behind him through the pack house, eyes down, movements mechanical. Breakfast at his feet. Meetings standing behind his chair. Evenings spent kneeling while he worked or entertained guests. Nights chained beside his bed or worse.
She had stopped counting the days. Time had become nothing but pain, silence, and the slow erosion of whatever was left of her.
Today was another public event — a gathering to celebrate the successful border negotiations with a minor allied pack. The hall was filled again, tables groaning
