Page 11 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“A reminder?” Vincent raises an eyebrow, alarmed eyes locking with mine. “Princess?”

Without me trying, I can feel the tension in my eyebrows loosen at the concern in his voice, but before I can stop myself the sarcasm drips into my tone. “What? No more little devil?”

Vincent moves in closer, the tips of his fingertips brushing against the curve of my cheek, leaving my cheeks in flames. His glittering blue eyes search mine, a flicker of something soft and unguarded showing beneath his usual composure.

“You don’t like it?” he murmurs, his voice low, as though we’re the only two people in the world. I turn my body towards him, Cast falling to the side as I am lost in the ocean of his eyes again.

“I didn’t say that,” I reply, the sarcasm in my tone faltering under the weight of his gaze.

Behind him, Cast scoffs. “You see? She’s ungrateful!”

The heat of Cast burns into my spine as he moves in closer. Amusement flashes across Vincent’s gaze as he murmurs, pinching my chin between his fingers. “Is that right, Princess? Are you ungrateful?”

Cast pushes in closer, his hand shaking around my waist. “Tell him, what you told me Willow.”

Nerves rush across my skin, because saying I don’t belong to Cast is easy, but I can’t say that to Vincent. It feels like a lie. It feels like a betrayal.

“Say it, Willow,” Cast whispers, leaning against the curve of my collar. “I don’t….”

Vincent’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away from me. His fingers drop from my cheek, and for a moment, I almost wish they hadn’t. “Ignore him,” he says softly.

Cast presses in closer against my ass, a lazy smile on his lips. His hands pressing firmly to the curve of my waist. I can feel the hardness of Cast's chest pressing against my back, each breath he takes sending a wave of heat down my spine. “Cast-”

“We need to talk, Little pawn.” Cast directs, moving my hips in the direction of the science corridor, further away from the cafeteria.

Every instinct screams at me to run, but I know better. My feet feel rooted to the ground, my body caught in the crossfire of their attention. Cast’s grip is firm but not bruising, a silent reminder of the control he believes he holds. Vincent steps to the side, his gaze sharp as steel as he watches me carefully, as though measuring my every reaction.

“We can just talk to her later,” Vincent says, his tone clipped as his eyes flick toward Cast.

“Relax,” Cast replies, his smile all teeth. “She’s done running from us. Aren’t you, Willow?”

I don’t answer. My mind is too busy racing, plotting, calculating. Every door we pass as they guide me toward the empty science corridor feels like a missed opportunity for escape. But running now wouldn’t just be reckless—it would be futile. I’ve seen what they’re capable of. I’ve seen the reach of the Chessmen.

“Hmm…the silent treatment? ” Cast murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Why don’t we add a spanking to your punishment?”

I glare at him over my shoulder, forcing a steadiness into my voice that I don’t feel. “I am not a child. You are not spanking me.”

Vincent chuckles softly, the sound low and warm but tinged with warning. “Careful, Princess. He doesn’t take rejection well.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Cast says, his hand sliding down my waist just enough to make me stiffen. “But, little pawn, you are mine to torture, remember? You don’t have a choice darling.”

The air grows heavier as we round the corner into the deserted corridor. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, the only sound apart from my uneven breathing. Vincent steps ahead, opening the door to an empty classroom, and gestures for me to enter.

I hesitate, my feet frozen.

“Inside,” Vincent says, his voice soft but firm.

I swallow hard and step in, my eyes darting toward the window on instinct. Too high to jump, even if I could make it there unnoticed. Cast and Vincent file in behind me, closing the door with a quiet finality that sends a chill down my spine, as Damien sprawls across the teacher’s desk, a three-ring binder open across his knees.

“Took you long enough,” he drones, flipping a page of the binder without even looking in our direction.

“What is this about?” I whisper, stalling my feet from walking any further into the room.

Cast lazily caresses my hip, whispering in my ear as he walks past me opposite of Damein. “This is about your insubordination.”

I square my shoulders, refusing to let fear overtake me even as the expensive smell of worn leather and ash overwhelms me, almost as much as Damien’s eyes running over the curve of my body.

“Insubordination?”

---