Chapter 2 Threats in Silk

He left me alone to pack, but I could hear him downstairs, his voice low and threatening as he spoke to my father.

I couldn't make out the words. Didn't need to. My father's whimpering responses told me everything.

I sat on my bed, the pen Killian had given me still clutched in my hand, staring at a blank piece of paper.

Dear Lila,

What did you say to your fifteen year old sister when you were being sold to a monster? How did you explain that you were leaving and never coming back? That every choice you'd ever made, every time you'd protected her, had led to this moment?

I have to go away for a while.

My hand was shaking so badly the letters came out jagged.

It's not your fault. It was never your fault. You are the best thing in my life, and I need you to be strong now. Study hard. Be smart. Don't trust Dad. Don't end up like me.

Tears blurred my vision. I blinked them back furiously. Crying wouldn't change anything.

I love you more than anything in this world. Remember that.

Cassia

I folded the letter, left it on my pillow where she'd find it, and threw some clothes into a bag. He said I didn't need much. That everything would be provided. Like I was a doll he was dressing up.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. Nineteen years old. Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes that had seen too much too soon. Beautiful, everyone said. My father's most valuable asset.

I looked at myself and made a promise.

Killian Thorne thought he'd won. Thought he'd broken me with one threat, bent me to his will with fear for my sister.

He had no idea what he'd just brought into his home.

The Mercedes was even more obscene up close. Black leather interior, tinted windows, the kind of car that cost more than most people made in a year.

A driver stood by the door, expressionless, opening it for me like I was royalty instead of cargo.

I slid inside.

Killian was already there, legs crossed, checking something on his phone.

He didn't look up as I settled into the seat as far from him as possible.

"Your father cried," he said casually. "Begged me to reconsider."

"Did you?"

"No." He glanced at me. "He didn't cry for you, Cassia. He cried because he's afraid of what happens now that he can't use you anymore."

I said nothing. He was right, and we both knew it.

The car pulled away from the only home I'd ever known. I didn't look back. What was the point?

"You'll have your own room," Killian said after a few minutes of silence. "Your own space. I'm not a barbarian."

"Just a man who threatens fifteen year old girls."

His jaw tightened. "I wouldn't have touched her."

"But you would have taken her."

"If necessary." He shifted in his seat, and suddenly he was closer, invading my space. "Let's establish some ground rules, Cassia. I don't tolerate disobedience. I don't tolerate disrespect. And I certainly don't tolerate lies. You belong to me now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

I turned to face him fully, let him see that I wasn't afraid. Even though I was. Even though my heart was racing so fast I thought it might explode.

"Let me establish something too," I said quietly. "You can threaten me. You can lock me up. You can do whatever you want to me. But you will never, ever own me. Not really. I'll play your game, Mr. Thorne. I'll be your perfect little wife. But don't mistake compliance for surrender."

For a moment, I thought he might hit me. His hand twitched, his eyes darkened with something dangerous.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed, low and rough, like I'd just told the best joke he'd heard in years.

"God," he breathed, leaning back. "You're perfect."

"I'm your worst nightmare," I corrected.

"Same thing." He was looking at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't wait to solve, a challenge he'd been craving.

"The others... they broke too easily. Cried, begged, tried to run. Boring. Predictable."

His eyes roamed over my face, hungry and possessive. "But you... you're going to fight me every step of the way, aren't you?"

"Count on it."

"Good." He reached out, and I forced myself not to flinch as his fingers brushed my cheek. "I like a challenge."

The mansion appeared through the trees like something out of a gothic novel.

Massive, sprawling, with tall windows that looked like eyes watching our approach.

The grounds were immaculate, gardens perfectly manicured, a fountain in the circular driveway that probably cost more than my entire neighborhood.

This was going to be my prison.

"Welcome home," Killian said as the car stopped.

Home. The word felt like a slap.

The driver opened my door, and I stepped out onto marble pavers, my cheap shoes looking pathetic against the grandeur.

Staff appeared from nowhere, taking my pathetic bag, bowing slightly to Killian.

And then I saw them.

The other wives.

They stood on the front steps like a receiving line, five women of varying ages and appearances, all watching me with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.

"Ladies," Killian said, his hand possessive on the small of my back. "Meet Cassia. My sixth bride."

The beautiful one in front, dark hair swept up elegantly, eyes sharp as knives, smiled at me.

It was the kind of smile that promised blood.