Morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, brushing Chloe's skin with a soft, golden glow. She sat on the edge of her bed, still in her silk robe, staring blankly at the glass of water she hadn't finished since last night. Her mind kept circling back to the images, the masked room, Lucius's voice, the way he'd watched her, the slaves, the way she commanded them, the way they obeyed.

It should have terrified her. Instead, it lingered like a spark that refused to go out.

She pressed ...