Under Her Rules 소설 & 이야기

It listed rules like it was preparing her for war. Rule 1: Obey without hesitation. Rule 2: Never start a conversation unless addressed. Rule 3: The Fire King sees everything. Rule 4: Mistakes are corrected. Painfully. Rule 5: Never cry in front of the King. She swallowed. So this was the world she had been bought into. Yet despite the cold warning of the rules, Alexander’s actions told a confusing different story. He didn’t hit her. He didn’t threaten her. He didn’t treat her like a thing.

she said, counting off on her fingers, “run, get caught, and be sold. Or stay, get caught, and be sold. Or… help you both try to burn down the people with the keys.” “More or less,” Kieran said. “But option three comes with slightly better seating arrangements.” “That’s not funny,” she said. “Wasn’t a joke.” Her mouth twisted. Her palm found her stomach again, almost of its own accord, fingers splaying protectively over the subtle swell. Not much there yet. But enough that her center of gravity had shifted. Enough that her bracelet had started acting like a live wire. *Rule Three: evaluation equals detention.* *Rule Two: bloodline overrides contracts.*

she cried, disobeying my third rule. Seeing her helpless and broken amused me. It gave me the urge to torment her even more against her wish. "What was my third rule?" I whispered against her ear and she trembled, squeaking as I bit her earlobe. "To always obey your rules." "And what have you done?" "Begged for your mercy." "Good girl, I like that you are able to answer each of my questions correctly. For that, I will go easy on you. Quick advice, take this as a commemorative ceremony of me taking away your innocence," I muttered, keeping to my word.

Ava’s POV There were only a few rules I lived by in college. Rule number one? Never fall for a jock. It wasn’t just a personal preference. It was survival; I had to avoid them in order to do well. I had seen too many smart girls throw away their GPA for a 6'0 something guy with biceps, a quarterback playboy and a bad attendance record. Not me, no way, I'll never do that, that's how I survived my first year in Westbridge University, and I'm not going to break that rule in my second year.

And in this world, those two things didn’t coexist. “You’ll fight with me,” I said finally, “but on my terms. No risks I can’t control.” She smiled, sad but resolute. “You don’t control me, Liam. Not anymore. Not in this.” For a moment, silence stretched between us. And then, slowly, I nodded. Because she was right. Because if I kept her caged, I’d lose her in another way. That day, we went back to Carter West. Eyes followed us everywhere employees whispering, board members glaring, Gregory lurking like a vulture at the edge of the room.

Gavin Prescott always said he hated rushed, disposable relationships. So ours had to follow a strict progress chart. Three months into dating, I wanted to hold his hand. He pointed to the chart and told me not to skip ahead. I agreed. For three years, I followed every rule. Then someone broke into my apartment, and I called him for help. He was silent for a long time before answering. "According to the chart, I'm not supposed to enter your home for another hour. Just hang on until then." He hung up. The intruder broke into my bedroom, realized I was alone, and tried to assault me. I fought him with everything I had. An hour later, Gavin finally arrived with the police. He ignored my i

I subconsciously rushed to the door, my hand already gripping the cold doorknob. I was already running the rescue procedures in my head. I could break down that door in 15 seconds as long as I used my breaching tools. I was just about to turn the doorknob when I recalled Mom's wailing from the phone call, condemning me for being a disgrace to the family. I also remembered the image of the formal reprimand notice vividly, along with Tanya's message in the group chat about teaching a lesson to those who abused their power through their positions.

one Elder began. “Yes,” she said. “I do. I presume to say: the rules that broke me, that nearly killed my child before she was born, that collared my mate and called it optics, that told a sixteen‑year‑old girl ‘you don’t get to say no’—those rules will not govern her future. Or mine. Or yours, if I can help it.” She looked up at the high windows, where the late light cut in hard angles.

To the direction she had run. She should have been dead. By every rule I lived by, she should have been. But she wasn’t. And that wasn't a mistake. It was a decision, which I allowed… For now.

"Everything?" "Everything." Marcus studied my face for a long moment, like he was memorizing it, or maybe giving me one last chance to change my mind. Then he released my hair and stepped back. "Strip." The command sent electricity down my spine. "What?" "You heard me." His voice was pure authority now, edged with heat. "Strip. I want to see what I'm working with." My hands shook as I grabbed the hem of my shirt. I pulled it over my head, dropping it on the pool deck. Marcus's eyes tracked the movement, then traveled slowly down my chest, my stomach, the obvious bulge in my jeans.