Julian gulped—hard, throat bobbing like he was swallowing broken glass, the sound wet and ugly in the thick air. His scar twitched violent under the living room light, pale and jagged against his flushed, sweaty skin, pulling tight like it wanted to rip open.
The leash hung heavy around his neck—black leather, thick, studded with cold silver that bit deep into his flesh, leaving red welts already blooming. His knees ached bad from the crawl down the stairs—raw, scraped, red and shiny, dragging with every inch like sandpaper on wood.
He hesitated—frozen on all fours, hands trembling hard, fingers curling into the hardwood, nails scraping faint, breath hitching wet and broken, chest heaving.
Tears streaked his cheeks slow, mixing with sweat, dripping off his chin in fat drops that splashed soft on the floor below, pooling tiny and clear.
Amara's eyes narrowed—sharp as knives, cruel as sin, lethal.
