Page 188 of What We Burn

SAGE

Iyelp and try to move backward. But I end up bracketed between them—Eli planted in the doorway, Knox stacked behind me like a brick wall, body-to-body, the world’s most dangerous sandwich press.

“Eli.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile, either—just that hush of white fury, eyes so black they’re almost shining.

“I can explain,” I say, but it’s rote, a joke.

He tilts his head, cataloging the bruising, my still-damp hair, the bare place where my choker should be. Then he hooks a finger beneath the edge of my silver mask, lifts it away and passes it back to Knox without looking.

“I don’t need an explanation, little savage. I know exactly what you did.”

Something inside me flinches. Not because I’m afraid of him. Because I want him proud, not angry. I want him to look at me the way he did when I came for the first time on his hands—like I was a miracle instead of a liability.

“Then what do you want?”

He leans in until his mouth is at my jaw. His hand closes around my throat.

“On your knees.”

My knees hit the carpet before the command has finished echoing off the glass. My body knows exactly what to do with this version of Eli.

Obey.

His hand shifts to my jaw and tilts my face up. For a moment, I expect the lecture. Rules. Risk. Every consequence of what I did. Instead, he lowers his face until I can count the flecks in his irises. He breathes me in, as if the blood still clinging to my skin can tell him something words won’t.

“Stay,” he says, letting go.

I freeze.

Eli straightens, his gaze still locked on mine as he slips a hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a thin leather band with a silver buckle that catches the low light. Without a word, he leans down and fastens it around my throat—snug, deliberate, the leather cool and stiff and new against my skin. My pulse jumps under it. I don’t move. I barely breathe. He steps back to admire his work.

Knox chuckles low. “Looks good on her.”

“It does,” Eli agrees, his voice rough around the edges. He traces a finger along the collar’s edge, and every hair on my arms lifts. “Now, little savage, you’re going to make up for that stunt you pulled tonight. Starting by showing us exactly how sorry you are.”

I swallow, the leather shifting with the motion, and I glance up at him through my lashes. Behind the glass, the two women are unfastening the man from the chair. Nobody in here is watching him anymore. Knox moves in until his frame fills the door.

Eli’s hand comes back to my chin, tilting it higher. “You think you can just run off and kill without us? Leave Milo sleeping like a fool and take all the risk yourself?” His voice is low, edged with that controlled fury, his thumb pressing just under my jaw to make me feel every word. “That’s not how this works, Sage. You belong to us—all of us. And tonight, we’re going to remind you what that means.”

My breath catches, arousal flooding me despite the sting of his words—or maybe because of it. “Eli, I⁠—”

“No talking,” he cuts in, his tone sharp but laced with the desire I know so well. “Not until I say. Now, crawl.”

He attaches a slim chain leash to the collar’s ring, the metal clicking into place with finality. The weight tugs lightly, a constant reminder, and he steps back, giving the leash a gentle but firm pull. “To the playroom. Show us how well you can obey when it counts.”

Knox’s deep rumble vibrates behind me. “Move, Fury. Eyes on the floor. Make it worth watching.”

I lean forward so I’m on all fours, the carpet rough under my palms. My knees sink into the pile as I start to crawl, eyes focused down. The leash pulls taut, Eli leading me out of the observation room and down the dimly lit corridor. My heart pounds, cheeks burning somewhere between humiliation and thrill—every shift of my hips in the tight dress feels exposed, deliberate, like I’m putting on a show just for them. The club sounds fade to a distant hum, but I know eyes might be on us, and it only heightens the rush.

“Good girl,” Eli murmurs, low and certain. “Look at you—crawling for us like you know you deserve this. You were so reckless tonight, little savage. We could’ve lost you.”

Knox follows close, his boots thudding softly. “She’s strong, Eli. Doesn’t mean she gets to run.”

We reach a private room—dark wood, padded benches, walls lined with restraints, crops, and toys that make my pulse spike. Eli tugs the leash, guiding me to the center. “Up on the bench. On your knees.”

I obey, climbing onto the low, padded platform, hands and knees sinking into the leather. The position leaves me exposed, ass up, the dress riding high. Eli keeps the leash wrapped once around his fist, holding me in place while Knox circles slowly, his massive hands flexing like he’s deciding where to start.