Chapter 10

Chapter 10 :The Price of Obedience

Raven’s POV

I stare at myself in the mirror, unmoving.

The dress clings to me like a second skin,black silk, slit high on one leg, the neckline plunging just enough to tempt, not beg. The kind of dress that whispers power but screams danger.

My hair is slicked back into a low, glossy ponytail, exposing the curve of my neck and the thin diamond choker circling it like a collar. The earrings I chose,shards of obsidian,catch the light when I turn my head. My makeup is sharp, sculpted, and unapologetic. Red lips. Cold eyes. War paint.

I look like a woman meant to be worshipped or feared.

Preferably both.

Still, I hate the way my stomach knots as I slip on my heels. Tonight isn’t about power. It’s about control.

And I’m not the one holding the leash.

The dining room glows with soft, golden light, the table dressed like we’re expecting royalty. Jack sits at the head, a fresh glass of scotch in his hand, face unreadable. Marcus lounges on one end, looking effortlessly bored, but his eyes flick to me the second I enter.

His eyes room my body and he smiles slightly, approval. Hopefully I get some tonight.

Sienna’s already seated near Marcus, in a soft pink dress that makes her look like a porcelain doll. She avoids my gaze.

Coward.

Jack looks up as I approach. “You’re late.”

“You’re welcome,” I respond, taking my seat to his right. “This much beauty takes time.”

He doesn’t smile. He’s not in the mood.

Neither am I.

Leon arrives exactly five minutes later. Of course he does. Punctual, polished, perfectly indifferent.

He walks in like the room belongs to him.

Charcoal suit. No tie. Hair a little tousled, as if he didn’t care enough to tame it. His eyes sweep the room, cool and calculated, and skip right over me like I’m a piece of furniture.

I feel my jaw tighten.

He nods at Jack, takes the seat directly across from me, and leans back like this is just another business dinner.

Not the slow unraveling of my pride.

“Leon,” Jack greets him warmly. “Glad you could make it.”

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Casuro,” Leon replies, his voice smooth like aged wine.

Not a glance. Not a smirk. Nothing for me.

Bastard.

They begin talking almost immediately,business, alliances, trade routes, smuggling logistics like this is a damn board meeting.

I swirl the wine in my glass, watching it stain the edges like blood. Sienna fidgets. Marcus looks like he’s fighting the urge to stab his fork into someone’s thigh,probably Leon's.

Then Jack says something that cracks the tension wide open.

“Sienna, why don’t you move over to Leon’s side? Let the young man enjoy your company.”

I freeze.

What?

Sienna hesitates,just for a heartbeat,then slowly gets up and walks to sit beside Leon.

I glance between her and my father, a slow, rising tide of disgust pooling in my throat.

What the fuck is this?

Leon doesn't acknowledge her, barely even shifts as she settles in next to him. I can see her hands trembling in her lap. Her shoulders curled in.

She’s nervous.

Good.

Jack continues talking, sipping his scotch like he’s discussing the weather. “Leon, I understand your concerns about the engagement. But let’s be honest, this marriage is a power move,for both families.”

Leon nods slightly, still not looking at me. “I agree. The alliance makes sense.”

Then Jack chuckles,a low, dangerous sound. “And of course, should you require… a more traditional arrangement, I’m not opposed to adding incentives. Raven for the name and the strength, and Sienna—”

My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I stand.

“No.”

The word comes out sharper than I intend. It slices the air cleanly in half.

Leon’s eyes finally,finally,lift to meet mine.

I’m ready for him to smirk. To gloat. But instead… his eyes are unreadable. Empty. Bored.

He turns to Sienna.

“Get up,” he says quietly.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide.

“I said get up.”

She stumbles to her feet, knocking over her wine glass in the process. It shatters.

No one moves.

“I—excuse me,” she mutters, and runs out the room.

I watch her leave, her shoulders shaking, and for a split second, pity slides under my ribs.

Just a sliver.

Jack doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Leon wipes his fingers with his napkin. “As I was saying, Mr. Casuro,though the alliance would benefit both organizations, I don’t believe Raven would make a suitable wife for me.”

“Really,” Jack says, eyebrow raised.

Leon shrugs. “I require someone traditional. Submissive. Compliant.”

My breath catches.

He says it with no emotion. No venom.

Like he’s stating the weather.

Like he’s not insulting me in front of my family.

Jack doesn’t miss a beat.

“Raven,” he says coldly, “come here.”

I don’t move.

“Now.”

I clench my jaw and slowly walk around the table until I’m standing beside him.

“Kneel,” he commands.

It feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room.

My heart slams in my chest, heat flooding my face. I glance at Marcus. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even flinch, he looks unbothered, but i notice his fists clench.

I look at Leon. He’s watching me with the same damn expression. Blank. Disinterested.

I feel a crack split down the middle of my pride.

“No,” I whisper.

“What did you say?” Jack’s voice is steel.

I raise my chin. “I said no.”

The silence that follows is so loud I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

Jack stands. “You disrespect me in my own house—”

“Enough,” Leon says calmly.

It cuts through everything.

He stands slowly, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “This is...unnecessary."

He turns to me.

“Raven,” he says, offering his hand. “Would you care to dance?”

I stare at him, my chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths.

I don’t take his hand right away.

Not because I don’t want to.

Because I hate that I do.

Then I slip my hand into his and let him lead me away from the ruins of my pride.

We move into the adjacent room,dark wood floors, soft lighting, and silence.

He places one hand on my waist, the other in mine.

“You didn’t kneel,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t ask.”

His lips twitch,barely. “You really think you’d make a good wife?”

I lean in, lips brushing his jaw.

“No,” I whisper. “But I’d make a very interesting one.”

We move together, barely swaying, and I hate how easy it feels to fall into rhythm with him.

“I’m not Sienna,” I say quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be.”

He looks down at me, his gaze unreadable.

“I know.”

We dance like it’s a funeral.

And maybe it is.

Mine.