Page 62 of Fractured Allegiance

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I get up. Cross the room. Flip it over.

Dom.

I don’t open it right away.

Just stare at the name on the screen like it might reach out and bite me.

He never texts unless it’s something I can’t ignore.

I open the message.

“You’re expected at dusk. Wear the red.”

That’s it.

No greeting. No signature.

The red.

I know what he means. The dress Drazen had sent to my loft two weeks ago. Backless. Deep plunge. Designed not to impress, but to remind everyone who’s watching that I belong to the house.

My fingers dig into my palms.

I walk to the closet. Pull open the door. There it is, hanging like a threat: garnet velvet, slit up to the hip, neckline just shy of indecency.

I should ignore the message.

But I won’t.

I never do.

Not because I’m obedient.

Because I know what happens to women who pretend they’re untouchable when they’re not.

I lift the dress from the hanger.

And for a moment, I wonder what Silas would say if he saw me in it.

Then I hate myself for wondering.

I don’t put the dress on.

I don’t even take it off the hanger.

But I do stand there for a long time, staring at it like it’s a mouth just waiting to speak for me.

Drazen never says “this is what you’ll wear.” He just sends things. A dress here, a necklace there. A way of saying, You know what I expect.

I close the closet.

Walk back to the bed.

Pick up my phone.

The message from Dom is still open.

“You’re expected at dusk. Wear the red.”

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