Page 66 of Dominion’s Collar

"Thank you," I say. "That's more than most people have given me."

He goes back inside. The door clicks shut behind him. Through the screen, I can see his shoulders drop.

Half a decade of carrying something he couldn't put down, and a stranger on his porch just gave him permission.

In the car, Theo drops down my list. The affair covers the evasiveness. The reports account for the guilt. Nothing he gave me points toward predation. He's been punishing himself for years for the reports that went nowhere, and he doesn't know why they went nowhere because he never followed up.

I do. The reports went to the safety committee. Gaudet sat on the safety committee. If someone needed those reports to disappear, he was positioned to make it happen.

Two sources down. The picture tightening. I drive to Dominion.

The submissives' lounge is busy when I arrive. I change out of my street clothes, let the dresser lace me into the corset, then step into the hallway.

Sebastien is waiting.

He hasn't changed yet. Dark trousers, dark shirt, the jacket that makes him look more like the man who manages Villere holdings than Obsidian. The collar is already in his hand.

I turn without being told and lift my hair.

His fingers settle against the back of my neck. Braided black leather closes around my throat, the ruby finding its familiar place between my collarbones. The lock clicks.

Tonight the weight lands differently. Not because the leather has changed, but because something beneath it has.

His thumb rests against my pulse for a beat.

"Bar."

One word. I go.

He disappears toward the Doms' changing room while I cross the floor.

The bar is full. Renata's working, her rhythm behind the counter sharp and sure. She slides a Negroni toward me before I've settled onto the stool. I take my usual seat.

Sophie DuBois appears at the far end of the bar. She orders something clear and carbonated and doesn't sit, just leans against the counter, comfortable being watched.

"Long day?" she asks.

"Is it obvious?"

"Only to people who pay attention." Sophie's mouth curves, barely. "You have the look of a woman who just finished a conversation she didn't want to have."

"More than one."

Sophie nods. She doesn't press. That's the thing about Sophie. She reads a room almost as well as Sebastien does, and she uses that reading to leave space rather than fill it.

"Renata told me you're writing about community transitions," Sophie says. "The Elysium-to-Dominion trajectory."

"That's the framework."

"Interesting framework. People carry things from one community to the next. The good and the otherwise." She picks up her drink. "The question is always whether the new place has better filters or just different walls."

"You think Dominion has better filters?"

"I think Margot does." Sophie straightens from the bar. "Enjoy your evening, Natalie."

She takes her drink toward the lounge, and I'm left with the Negroni and a comment that was more specific than it needed to be.

Movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention.