The corridor behind the arena was colder than the fighting pit, but it did little to ease the heat trapped beneath my skin. Gone were the torches and roaring crowd, replaced by the damp stone walls and the hollow echo of Selwyn’s boots on the uneven ground.

  I stayed limp in his arms, my head resting against his shoulder as he carried me deeper into the maze of hallways.

  “You’re really going to keep this up?” His breath was warm against my skin, carrying the faint scent of sweat and hay.

  I kept my eyes closed but let a slow smile tug at my lips. “I’m committed to the role.”

  Hi chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “You’re heavier than you look.”

  I let out a mock-offended gasp. “Rude.”

  “Just honest. You’re like, what, ninety-nine percent muscle?”

  “Nice recovery.”

  I opened both eyes, blinking against the dim light, and tilted my head back just enough to catch his face. His jaw was set in mock-annoyance, but there was the usual flicker of amusement in his eyes.

  “You can let me go if you want to.” I said, keeping my voice light, playful.

  His grip didn’t falter.

  “I don’t want to.”

  A sharp twinge shot through my chest, unexpected and too real. It wasn’t leftover adrenaline, I knew that, but I waved it away the same, forcing the thought away before it could settle.

  We rounded a corner and the sharp scent of burning oil grew stronger, mingling with herbs. A figure stood at the end of the hall, lantern light casting his shadow tall against the stone walls.

  Gerard.

  He was broad-shouldered, with thick arms that looked like they could snap a person in half, though his stance was relaxed. His dark hair was cut short, partially covering the two small, ridged horns that curved back from his forehead. The thick leather collar strapped around his neck gleamed in the lantern light, a constant reminder of his status despite the strength he carried so easily.

  “She breathing?” Gerard asked, stepping forward and pulling open a heavy wooden door.

  “She’s breathing, but I figured I’d do the hard part. Wouldn’t want her to break a sweat.” Selwyn replied dryly.

  The heavy door creaked open and a wave of cold, sterile air hit me, thick with the scent of crushed herbs and the metallic tang or iron. Or maybe it was blood.

  The room inside was small and cold. A single lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling, casting wavering shadows across the stone walls. A table sat in the centre, its surface worn smooth from years of use, and an open medical satchel rested on a nearby bench, filled with cloths and gleaming instruments that I couldn’t identify from here.

  Selwyn carried me inside. “Alight, shows over.”

  But as he shifted to set me down, I tensed and my claws extended, curling into his shirt. The fabric shifted under my grip, soft from wear.

  Selwyn stopped, still holding me.

  “Joy,” he whispered, gentler now.

  I knew the rules. The doctor couldn’t treat us with handlers hovering, and Selwyn wasn’t supposed to be in here at all. But the coldness of the room, the sharp smell of blood and herbs, it all pressed against me. I didn’t want him to let go. Not yet.

  But I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

  With a reluctant sigh, I retracted my claws and loosened my grip.

  Selwyn exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing, and he set me down carefully on the table.

  He hesitated for a second, his eyes flickering over my face, before Gerard cleared his throat behind him.

  Selwyn sighed, his hand brushing over his jaw. “I’ll be right outside.”

  I offered him a sly grin. “Don’t go far, you’re my ride home.”

  He snorted, shaking his head as he slipped out, closing the door behind him with a hollow thud.

  For a brief moment, the room was silent.

  Gerard lingered by the door, arms crossed. His gaze moved around the room before drifting down to my legs, to the thin metal collar locked around my ankle.

  “That’s new,” he muttered, gesturing towards it.

  I stretched my leg out, the metal glinting in the lantern light. “Keeps my throat free during fights. Can’t choke me if there’s nothing to grab.”

  Gerard’s brow furrowed as his eyes lingered on the collar, and the scars beneath it.

  “Safer, huh? Looks like it’s done its share of damage.”

  The words hit harder than I expected. I felt the tension prickle beneath my skin as I pulled my legs up onto the table, wrapping my arms around them. My claws tapped against my sides as I curled inwards.

  “It’s fine, that’s not from this collar.” I said quickly, keeping my voice light.

  “Jacobi making you wear that? Doesn’t seem right,” he pressed, his voice more concern than accusation.

  I flinched, though I tried to hide it. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know. But the scars beneath the collar burned now that I wasn’t ignoring them.

  Before he could say anything else, the door creaked open.

  “Gerard,” came a soft voice.

  Doctor Susan Richelli entered, her red hair tied back in a haphazard braid, sleeves rolled to her elbows.

  She took one look at the scene, Gerard hovering, me curled into myself, and raised a brow.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Ger her some space,” Susan said gently, moving past him to my side.

  Gerard shifted, looking sheepish. “I was just-”

  “I know,” Susan interrupted, her tone kind but firm. “But when someone curls up like that, it usually means stop.”

  He hesitated, then nodded, backing toward the door. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  I gave him a small, tight smile. “It’s fine.”

  Gerard ducked out, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

  Susan turned her focus on me, her expression softening.

  “You alright?”

  I exhaled slowly, tension still tight in my chest. “I’m fine.” Maybe if I kept repeating it, one day it would be true.

  She didn’t press. Instead she began gathering bandages and clothes from her satchel.

  “Let’s take a look at those ribs,” she said, putting on a pair of gloves.

  I stretched out on the table, the cold wood biting into my back. Susan pressed her fingers against my ribs, the pressure alone making my breath hitch.

  “Deep breath,” she instructed.

  I inhaled slowly, wincing as the ache flared beneath her touch. With Susan I didn’t try to hide my pain, she was only here as a doctor, not to judge me. The bruises were already deepening into shades of violet and blue, stark against my pale skin. By morning, they’d be impossible to miss.

  Susan let out a slow breath, her gaze flickering over the damage. “He won’t like this.”

  I glanced down at the bruising. “It was his choice that I participate in the fighting. Technically, these are from him.”

  Susan’s expression didn’t shift. “Not from his hand. It’s not the same to them.”

  I exhaled slowly. I knew what she meant.

  Owners could be possessive about the marks their demons wore, some of them had a need to see their own handiwork.

  Susan worked in silence, carefully wrapping the bandage around my ribs before speaking again, her voice more hushed. “I’ve seen how they get when they think they’re losing control. When they see marks that aren’t theirs.”

  I met her gaze, steady. “Jacobi knows what he signed me up for.”

  Her hands stilled for a moment.

  “Just… be careful. I have seen enough demons leave the fights and never return.”

  I nodded, shifting to sit up on the table. Susan was one of the few humans who had always treated me as a patient rather than property. I trusted Jacobi, but didn’t want to dismiss her concerns outright. It came from a place of experience. She had seen what happened to demons who didn’t have Jacobi’s protection.

  “I will,” I said, my voice quiet.

  Before she could say anything else, the door few open behind us.

  “Doctor.” Jacobi’s voice filled the space as he stepped into the room, Selwyn close on his heels.

  “Chairman Velez, Selwyn.” Susan greeted, polite but distant.

  His gaze swept over me, lingering on the bruises he could see outside the bandages, before settling on my face.

  I forced a smile. “I’m fine. No need to fuss.”

  He didn’t smile back.

  “You fainted in the ring. That’s not nothing.

  “Stage presence,” I replied with a shrug.

  Jacobi’s eyes lingered on me, his gaze calculating. The silence stretched, before he finally shifted.

  “You push it too far sometimes, Joy.”

  I swung my legs off the table, my claws curling against the edge as I gripped it. “Isn’t that what the crowd wants?”

  A flicker of a smirk crossed Jacobi’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “They want a show. But more than that, they want to imagine themselves holding the leash.”

  Selwyn let out a quiet exhale, shaking his head. “They’re not just imaging it. They’re paying to pull it.” His tone was flat, edged with something harder.

  Jacobi turned his gaze towards him, amusement flickering in his eyes. “That’s what keeps them coming back. Let them think they’re in control. Joy and I both know who really is.”

  His attention suddenly snapped back to Susan. “She didn’t break anything, did she?”

  “No fractures, but she’s bruised deep. She needs time to recover.”

  Jacobi hummed, stepping closer. “Time we don’t have.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thin leather collar, the purple and silver of his house colours, embedded with small, glittering gems.

  “For tonight,” he said, letting the collar swing between us.

  I didn’t need to ask what tonight meant. I’d known about the party. I knew my place in it. What I hadn’t known was the Garrthor gems.

  I eyed the collar, raising a brow. “That’s…expensive.”

  He nodded. “Only the best.”

  Garrthor gems weren’t meant for demons, especially not for show collars. They were the kind of stones worn in noble jewelry, traded between houses, passed down through generations. They weren’t strapped around the necks of people like me.

  Jacobi wasn’t careless with money. He spent strategically.

  So why this?

  I swallowed my unease and tilted my chin up. “A little excessive, don’t you think?”

  Jacobi didn’t react to the comment, he simply stepped forward, running the smooth leather inside the collar along his fingers before fastening it around my throat.

  The weight of it was the first thing I noticed. Heavier than it should have been. Not uncomfortable, just…unexpected.

  A faint chill lingered against my throat. I expected it to fade as the leather adjusted to my skin, but instead, it settled deeper.

  The Garrthor gems pulsed with quiet coldness, their unnatural chill refusing to ease. The realisation struck slow, crawling over me like a second layer of weight.

  They weren’t meant to warm.

  This was deliberate.

  I lifted my gaze, finding Jacobi watching me closely. He looked pleased. Triumphant.

  Of course he was. He’d chosen this for a reason.

  “Subtle,” I muttered.

  From the doorway, Selwyn made a noise.

  I turned my head just in time to catch the sharp exhale, the tension tightening his jaw.

  His shoulders were stiff, his eyes locked on the collar around my throat.

  “What you do think?” I asked, my voice light, trying to dissipate the tension in the room. Trying and failing.

  Selwyn hesitated. His eyes flicked between the collar at my throat and my face, something unreadable tightening his jaw.

  Then, he forced himself to answer.

  “You look good in anything.”

  His hand clenched at his side before he caught himself, forcing his posture back into something neutral.

  I didn’t miss it. Neither did Jacobi.

  I could see as Jacobi’s gaze moved between us, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

  “Always the charmer, Selwyn. But charm doesn’t change who holds the leash.”

  I gave Selwyn a gentle smile, all of my instincts screaming for me to reassure him. “Jacobi doesn’t keep me on a literal leash.”

  Jacobi let out a low, amused hum, the kind I’d heard before - in meetings, at negotiations, when he’d maneuvered someone into exactly the position he wanted.

  I recognised the sound before I understood why he was making it.

  Then his hand slipped into his coat, unhurried, controlled, before he drew out a length of deep violet leather, smooth and uncreased, it’s silver fittings gleaming under the lantern light.

  He let the leash unfurl slowly, the new leather still stiff, the silver clasp swaying gently between his fingers, catching the dim glow.

  I stilled.

  The air in the room shifted, the playful edge I’d been holding onto slipping from my grasp.

  My lips parted slightly, my mind catching up a beat too late.

  Oh.

  Jacobi eased back, his satisfaction etched in the curve of his mouth, the effortless set of his shoulders.

  He’s known exactly what I would say.

  He walked me right into it.

  Like I was already on a leash.

  Jacobi clipped the leash onto the collar with a soft metallic clink.

  I glanced towards Selwyn, instinct pulling my attention to him. His jaw was locked, shoulders stiff.

  Before I could fully take in his expression, the leash tightened.

  Slowly, deliberately, Jacobi wound the leather around his hand, pulling it taut - not harshly, but firm enough to make a point. The pressure wasn’t painful but it was undeniable, guiding my gaze back to him.

  Behind me, movement, a shift in weight and the scrape of a boot against stone.

  Then, the sharp crack of the door slamming shut.

  Selwyn was gone.

  Jacobi watched the door over my shoulder for a moment, his satisfaction barely concealed. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he loosened the leash, letting the tension slip away now that its purpose was served.

  The performance had ended. And I’d played my part.

  Jacobi’s mouth curved, pleased.

  “Ready for another show?”

  I hesitated, just for a moment. The Garrthor gems were still cold around my throat. The chill hadn’t faded. It had settled deeper, curling into regret.

  I didn’t like being used as a pawn. But that was why Jacobi had bought me, to be moved when it suited him, to play the role he needed.

  And I knew my role.

  I exhaled, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders, not in surrender, but in acceptance.

  “Always.”

  A quiet rustle of fabric pulled my attention. I glanced to the side, Susan was still watching. She hadn’t moved, but the weight of her gaze was unmistakable.

  She cleared her throat. “No strenuous activities tonight,” she warned Jacobi, her voice even. “She’s bruised worse than she lets on.”

  Jacobi didn’t look at her. “I’ll be careful.”

  Liar.

  I pushed off the table, stepping toward Susan. She offered a soft smile.

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said, pulling her into a brief hug. I leaned in, whispering, “Gerard’s a sweetie. I’m glad he’s got you.”

  Her mouth twitched in a half-smile, but said nothing.

  Jacobi gave a light tug on the leash, a wordless signal.

  Time to go.