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A little corner in my heart is very, very pleased.

His gaze completes its circuit and returns to my face. Those gray eyes are dark.Hungry.

“Mr. Lazarev—” I start.

He takes my hand.

His fingers close around mine. They’re cool to the touch, and firm, and they arenotasking permission.

Then he turns and leads me off the stage.

I stumble after him. My heels catch on the steps, but he doesn’t slow down. His rough grip tightens and keeps me upright.

The crowd steps aside for us. It’s a sea of silk and diamonds and wide, inquisitive eyes. Everyone is watching and whispering behind their hands. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I think that’s for the best.

Off to one side, I see Preston Howell scowling into his drink. I see Ariel, the redhead in gold, with her mouth flopping open. I see a thousand faces I don’t recognize, all gawking at me in horror.

Then I see Kir.

He’s alone now, like no one dares to go near him. His champagne glass hangs forgotten at his side.

His face is ashen, gray eyes hollow. He looks like a horse just kicked him in the stomach.

Lukas changes course to swing past him. We approach without stopping, just near enough for Lukas to bend down and deliver to his son a single sentence as he passes:

“You should have learned by now, boy,” he growls. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

25

RAE

SILVER HILL HOSPITAL - PATIENT INTAKE

Date: March 15, 2021

Patient: [REDACTED]

Age: 24

Admitting Diagnosis: Acute PTSD, Dissociative Episodes

Incident Report Summary: "Patient found unresponsive after encounter with [REDACTED]. Severe psychological trauma. Patient unable to speak coherently about events. Repeated phrases: 'He wouldn't stop' and 'I said no.'"

Paying Party: Howell Technologies (NDA attached)

Length of Stay: 191 days (ongoing)

Lukas tows me down a side corridor. When he shuts a door behind us, the noise of the ballroom fades.

Even in this little service hallway, the opulence is insane. Crystal sconces line the walls, casting pools of warm light on the marble floor, which is laced with gold grouting.

I yank my hand free of his. It’s successful, which is how I know that he let me do it.

Because if Lukas Lazarev didn’t want to let me go, he simply wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t have any say in the matter.

“What thehellwas that?” I screech.

My voice clangs off the walls, loud and shrill. Lukas stops walking and turns to face me. His emotionless scowl doesn’t change.