#5: There’s Only One Her

~Ryder~

I freeze with my fingers hovering a mere millimeter above her wet, warm flesh, while I try to make sense of what just happened. The primal, roaring urge to take her, to completely possess her and strip away every last bit of her defiance, grinds to a crashing, agonizing halt.

I stare down at her, my chest heaving as I fight the furious tide of my own arousal, trying to process the absolute shock of what she just did.

“Romeo!” Lila shouts again, her voice louder this time, directed straight at the surface of the two-way mirror on the wall. She is trembling beneath me, her eyes wide and flashing with a volatile mixture of fear, triumph, and lingering desire.

Before I can even open my mouth to demand an explanation, the heavy security door clicks open and swings wide and Nico Thorne steps into the room carrying a thick, black wool blanket in his hands. He moves directly between us, using his body as a shield to block my view of her as he drapes the fabric over her bare, shivering shoulders.

“Step back, Kane,” Thorne orders, his deep voice carrying a hard warning edge. “You’re done.”

“She’s manipulating the dynamic,” I say as I finally force myself to stand up. “She isn’t using the word because she’s in actual distress or because her boundaries were crossed. She’s topping from the bottom. She planned this the entire time just to force a disqualification and get me kicked out of the room.”

Lila pulls the blanket tightly around her chest, clutching it to her chin as she glares at me from the mattress, though she refuses to look Thorne in the eye. “The rule is absolute. I used the safe word. You have to remove him from my training rotation.”

“I am well aware of the rules, Agent Mitchell,” Thorne says smoothly, keeping his back to me while he helps her slide her legs off the edge of the bed. Then he turns his head slightly, catching my eye with a look that tells me my time in this dungeon is officially over. “Out, Ryder. Right now. We will discuss this in my office once the agent is fully dressed and escorted to the aftercare lounge.”

Every military instinct I possess, combined with the raw, possessive fury of a Dom who just had his woman snatched away, screams at me to stand my ground. But the club rules are the only thing keeping this place from collapsing into chaos, and Thorne will not hesitate to ban me permanently if I violate protocol. I take a single, deep breath to steady my rising fury, grab my discarded shirt from the corner, and walk out of the room without looking back.

The ride back to my downtown condo on my Harley is a blur of high-speed adrenaline and blinding frustration. The cool evening air whips against my face, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the burning fire in my blood.

By the time I push open the door to my apartment, I am pacing the floor like a caged predator. My home is a reflection of my life – clean, minimalist, with a private, fully equipped dungeon hidden behind a false wall in the master suite. Usually, this space brings me a sense of absolute control, but tonight, the sight of the leather restraints and polished wood only reminds me of what I just lost.

I cannot allow Thorne to assign her to another trainer.

The mere thought of Axel or Zane or worse, one of the other guys, putting their hands on her bare skin, hearing her gasp, or watching her beautiful, stubborn face melt into submission makes my blood boil with a murderous jealousy. But it goes far deeper than a simple territorial urge.

I know the monsters who run that auction ring. I’ve tracked their kind during my deployments with the SEALs. They are ruthless, calculating sadists who will tear her apart the second they spot a single flaw in her submissive façade. No other Dom in this club will care about her survival the way I do. No one else will push her to her absolute limits to ensure she is unbreakable.

I have two choices here. I can either push her so hard that the terrifying reality of the mission forces her to quit, allowing the Bureau to send a more experienced agent to save her friend, or I can train her so perfectly that she becomes completely ironclad under deep cover. Either way, I’m the only one who can do it.

Frustrated, I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and dial the one person who actually understands the wreckage of my past.

“Hey, lil bro,” Harry says playfully.

“I’ve told you to quit calling me that!”

“Heyyyy,” my older brother’s voice is still calm despite the snap. “You sound like you’re about to put your fist through a wall. What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath, hold it for two seconds, then let it out slowly before I speak again.

“I saw her,” I say as I resume pacing the hardwood floor. “She’s here at The Red Room.”

The line goes completely silent for a moment.

“There’s only one ‘her’ you ever speak of with that tone of voice,” he says, his voice more serious now. “You’re telling me Lila Mitchell walked into your BDSM club?”

“She’s an FBI agent now,” I explain, running a hand through my hair, feeling the tight knot of tension in my shoulders grow heavier. “She’s going undercover in a high-end human trafficking ring, and her agency hired The Red Room to train her in power exchange dynamics. I volunteered for the assignment before I even realized it was her.”

“Jesus, Ryder,” Harry breathes, a low whistle coming through the speaker. “Twelve years. What happened when you saw each other?”

“She hates me, Harry. She looks at me like I’m the monster who ruined her life, and honestly, she has every right to. I tried to establish dominance, to get her to actually listen to me so I can keep her alive, but she used her safe word just to get me removed from the case. But the chemistry…” I pause as the memories of a few hours ago overwhelm me. “God, Harry, it’s still exactly the same. I touched her, and it was like no time had passed at all. I still love her. I’ve never stopped loving her, and I want her back permanently.”

“Then you go after her,” Harry says instantly, his tone shifting into something fiercely supportive. “You’ve spent over a decade living like a ghost, punishing yourself for a choice you had to make to protect her. You need to tell her the truth about why you left all those years ago.”

“I can’t just drop that on her,” I say, stopping in front of the window, looking out over the city lights. “If I tell her about everything right now, it will completely derail her focus. She needs her head entirely in the game to survive this mission. If I endanger her life because I’m selfishly trying to clear my conscience, I’ll… I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Then do what you have to do,” Harry counters smoothly. “But do not let her walk away from you again. Use whatever leverage you have to stay in that room with her. Protect her, train her, and when she’s safe, you win her back.”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “But what leverage could I possibly have over someone I slept with and…”

I trail off as the words spark a sudden, electric memory in the back of my mind.

“You know what,” I murmur, a dark, calculating grin finally breaking through my frustration. “I know exactly what I have to do. I’ll call you later.”

I hang up the phone, grab my leather jacket, and sprint back out to my motorcycle.

I burst through the front doors of the club, ignoring the surprised glances from the staff, and march straight up the stairs to Thorne’s private office. I don’t bother knocking. I throw the heavy mahogany door open, stepping inside to find Thorne sitting behind his desk, reviewing a stack of paperwork.

“What the hell’s the meaning of this, Ryder?” Thorne demands. “I told you we would discuss the incident tomorrow. Agent Mitchell is currently resting, and I’m already looking over Axel’s schedule to–”

I reach into my pocket, pull out the digital tablet containing the club’s founding charter and legal bylaws, and slap it down on the center of his desk.

“Axel isn’t touching her,” I say, leaning forward and placing my palms flat on the desk, staring directly into his eyes. “I’m invoking Rule 21.3.5 of the The Red Room Charter.”

Thorne freezes, his entire posture stiffening as the words register. He slowly reaches out and scrolls through the document on the tablet until he hits the specific section.

“Prior Claim,” he says slowly, leaning back in his chair. “A senior Dominant may claim exclusive, unappealable training and disciplinary rights over a submissive if a documented, foundational history exists prior to their entry into the club ecosystem–”

“–specifically, if the Dominant was the one to first claim her innocence,” I complete the sentence for him. “I took her virginity twelve years ago which means by the club’s own rules, I have prior claim. She belongs under my care.”

Thorne stares at the screen for a long, agonizing moment, then sighs, leaning back in his leather chair.

“The rule is valid, it hasn’t been invoked in over a decade, but it stands,” he admits. “However, the Board will require a justification beyond mere sentimentality. If you take her under this clause, you are responsible for her entire psychological well-being. What is your ultimate intent with this woman?”

I straighten up, pulling my shoulders back, the words leaving my lips before I can even think to hesitate.

“I intend to collar her and ultimately marry her,” I say, straightening. “When this mission is over, she’s staying with me permanently. But right now, her safety is my absolute top priority. I’m the only man who can prepare her well enough to survive that ring.”

Thorne studies me, his dark eyes assessing the sheer desperation and resolve radiating from my frame. Finally, he taps his fingers against the desk.

“One week,” he says, his voice dropping into a stern, menacing register. “I will grant you one week of exclusive control under the Prior Claim rule. But hear me well… if you cross the line, if you break her psychologically or allow your personal history to compromise her safety, I will not only revoke the claim immediately, but I will strip you of your membership and ban you from The Red Room for the rest of your life. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” I say, a cold smile touching my lips as I turn toward the door. “Tell her the next session starts tomorrow at dawn.”