I lay on the bed, chest heaving, as Alexander hovered over me. His hands pinned my wrists above my head, his body heavy and warm against mine. The rose-gold collar felt like a chain now instead of a comfort.

“Babygirl,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous, “look at me.”

I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision as the video played on repeat in my mind — my mother’s terrified voice begging him.

Alexander gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You’re spiraling. Stop.”

“How can I stop?” My voice broke. “You… you might have killed my mother. The woman who raised me. And I’ve been letting you fuck me,...