Chapter 3

I laughed. The sound was sharp, awkward, and too loud for the heavy silence pressing down on the room. But I had to force it out—because if I didn’t laugh, I’d scream.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, leaning back against the chair as if I was sitting in some casual café, not tied down like a hostage. “My dad, who was just found dead in his house less than a day ago, somehow owed you money? And now you’re telling me I—” I gave a little shrug, grinning though my throat was tight—“belong to you? You realize how crazy that sounds, right? Sounds like the setup for a bad joke.”

Perth didn’t flinch. He sat across from me, still and composed, his long fingers steepled, his piercing gray eyes locked onto mine with unnerving intensity. That stare was like ice water pouring over my skin, cold enough to seep all the way into my bones.

I swallowed, keeping the grin alive even as fear drenched me from the inside out. It was like standing under a cold shower you couldn’t escape. My body was on high alert, every hair prickling. My wrists twisted against the ropes, ankles jerking at the bindings beneath the chair, but they didn’t give.

Finally, Perth leaned forward, his voice deep and smooth, carrying no rush, no hesitation.

“Your father’s death is now yours to pay,” he said. The words were quiet, but they hit like a hammer. “Whether you like it or not. It’s either you serve me… or you die.”

He smiled then, slow and bone-chilling. It wasn’t just a smile—it was a verdict. Cold, sharp, final.

A pit opened in my stomach, hollow and dark. My skin tightened as the realization hit me. He wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t joking. Every part of me, down to my bones, knew that this wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise.

I swallowed again, forcing another laugh out of my dry throat. “No need to get dramatic,” I said, though my voice cracked before I could steady it. “How much is this so-called debt, anyway? Maybe I can pay it off. You know, swipe a card, sell a few things, maybe even a kidney. Pretty sure black-market kidneys go for a fortune.”

His lips curved again—amusement without warmth. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into something that made the air feel heavier. “You could never possibly pay it.”

The way he said it made the pit in my stomach twist tighter.

“Okay, fine,” I said quickly. “Let’s pretend I believe you. What exactly do you mean by ‘belong to you’? You want me to shine your shoes? Do your taxes? Fetch your morning coffee? Because I’m bad at all three, just a heads-up.”

Perth’s gray eyes narrowed, their cold glint catching in the light like steel sharpened to a blade’s edge. Predatory.

“Belonging to me,” he said, slow and deliberate, “means your life is no longer your own. Your breath, your time, your body. Everything you are, everything you have, exists to serve me. You are bound by your father’s debt. Until it is paid… you are mine.”

My throat dried. The joke I’d been preparing slipped right out of my head.

I forced a smirk anyway. “Sounds like slavery. And, uh, newsflash, slavery’s been outlawed for a while now—even for guys with stormy eyes and a cult following.”

His expression didn’t change. He tilted his head slightly, studying me like he was trying to decide if I was worth keeping alive.

“You think this is a game.”

“I mean,” I shot back, though my pulse was hammering, “you tie me to a chair and give me a speech. Feels a little theatrical, don’t you think?”

“Careful, Santa.” His voice cut through the air like a knife sliding through fabric. “There is no theater here. Only survival.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, the shadows pressing in from every corner. My bravado cracked, my chest tightening as fear seeped through the cracks.

I stared at him—really stared this time. At his perfect jawline, his dark hair that fell into place with impossible precision, the piercing gray eyes that pinned me like I was already nailed to the floor. There was something ethereal about him, something too flawless, too sharp, like he wasn’t even human.

“What are you?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

A real smile touched his lips this time. Slow. Dangerous. “That,” he murmured, “you’ll learn in time.”

Before I could ask, the door creaked open. One of the cloaked men stepped inside, his eyes flicking to me with thinly veiled disdain before bowing his head low toward Perth.

“Sire. The arrangements have been made.”

Perth didn’t look away from me. Not for a heartbeat. “Good. Prepare him.”

My pulse spiked, my chest tightening like I was being crushed from the inside. “Prepare me for what?” I demanded, twisting so hard against the ropes that they burned into my wrists.

Perth rose slowly from his chair, his tall frame casting a long shadow that swallowed me whole. He leaned down until his lips were near my ear, his voice low, cold, and too close.

“For the life you’ve inherited,” he whispered. “One way or another.”

And then he straightened, giving the slightest nod. The cloaked man pulled something from his robes—a glint of steel flashing in the dim light.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I jerked wildly against the chair, panic tearing through the last shreds of my fake calm.

“Wait—what the hell are you going to do?”

Perth’s gaze lingered on me, steady and unreadable.