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I wait for Adrien to say no, to tell Mathias to screw off, but he doesn’t. Adrien doesn’t move at all except to shift his body even more directly in front of me, so rigid I can sense the effort it costs him not to pull me behind the nearest locked door.

I slip out from behind his arm anyway. I do it slowly, telegraphing every inch, because I don’t want Daddy to think I’m trying to get away from him. He wants to keep me safe, but I think it’s my turn to protect us. So I move past him, feeling the heat of his glare against my back, and stand in front of Mathias. Something in the air goes heavier, like maybe that’s not what anyone expected me to do.

“Earlier, when we arrived,” Mathias says, “you only texted Adrien. Is that correct?”

I blink a second, trying to find the trap. “Yes?” It comes out like a question, because I don’t know why he’d ask. It’s not like I have anyone else to text. “Who else would I—” The words die in my throat. For a split second, I imagine myself texting the police, or my mom, or any human with a badge or a grudge, but the idea is so alien it doesn’t fit inside my skull.

Mathias nods once, like that’s the answer he wanted. Then, “You like living with Adrien?”

The question is so simple I almost laugh. I don’t, because that would be actual suicide, but I want to. Instead, I look at Adrien, then Quillan, then back to Mathias. “Yes,” I say. Louder than before. “I do.”

“Why?” Mathias asks, his voice still flat, not even a hint of curiosity.

I want to say because he’s Daddy, because the last time I felt safe was when I was eight years old, when my dad tucked me in and told me monsters aren’t real, but I don’t think that would help.

“He takes care of me. He makes sure I have what I need. He doesn’t let anything bad happen to me.” The list sounds so childish, but it’s all true, so I cross my arms and wait.

Mathias’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “You want to stay with him?”

Is this a trick question? “Yes.”

He studies me for a few more seconds, then looks at Adrien. The glance is so sharp it could slice glass. “If he were to leave?”

Adrien answers, “He won’t.”

Mathias nods like he expected that answer, then asks, “But if he were? If something changed between the two of you and he ran away. What would you do then?”

“I don’t want to leave,” I say, but Mathias keeps his gaze on Adrien, and I realize my words have no weight at this moment.

Daddy looks at me, and something hungry and feral flashes in his eyes. He glances at the other two, then back at me, as if he can’t decide whether he wants to be dangerous or comforting.

He shifts his jaw, and his face goes blank.

“If he ran,” Daddy says, and his voice is so cold it could kill a fever, “I’d find him. Doesn’t matter where. I’d bring him back and remind him just how helpless he really is.” His gaze pins me. “Start over, if I had to. Lock him in a room and strip every single bad idea out of his head, until he remembered who he belongs to.”

Silence hits the room like a bullet. For two whole seconds, there is nothing but the soft whir of the fridge and the way my heart is suddenly crammed inside my throat, trying to escape.

Quillan’s mouth opens—maybe to make a joke, maybe to say something about how possessive that sounds—but Mathias speaks first.

“Would you?” he asks, like it’s a dare.

“I would. Even if he screamed and fought and tried to throw another lamp at my head, I would cuff him to the bed just like before, and just like before, he’d fall for me all the same.”

The words land in my chest like a punch. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. Or maybe it does, but it’s the same shivery, magnetic fear that comes when I want something too much and am afraid to admit it.

I think the room expects me to pull away, maybe run for the door, but I just stay where I am, blood thrumming with something like relief. I’m not getting out of this, and I don’t want to. Not really.

“Then I have no problem,” Mathias says, which feels both exactly right and completely wrong. He stands, jacket falling perfectly into place. “Bring him by the club next week.”

My stomach does a weird little skip. “What club?”

Adrien answers without looking at me. “Absolutely not.”

Mathias arches a brow, looking faintly surprised. “You don’t want to show him off?”

“I will personally skin any motherfucker who dares to lay an eye on him.”

Oh, wow. That’s… something.