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I jolt, moving closer to the man on instinct. He drops one hand to grip my shoulder, the other hand moving to the back of my neck. I expect him to yank me away, but he brings me even closer to him instead, not stopping until my forehead is pressed against the warmth of his chest. His thumb on my shoulder rubs soothing circles.
“He’s disoriented. Not sure how much of it is shock and how much is injury. He doesn’t need immediate medical, but Jake has one over there you should check out.” He returns his focus to me, tilting my head back so our eyes are locked again. “Who was your master? Was it one of the guests here?”
I blink at him.
What’s the right answer? Is it a test by Master Roarke to check my loyalty? Is this an enemy who will kill me if he finds out I belong to the man he just dethroned? Is this a rescuer? If he is, why the fuck does it matter who owned me?
“Do you remember your name?” he asks instead, moving on since I took too long to answer the first question.
A hand comes out of nowhere, grabbing the man’s bicep in a soft grip. I follow the path of this new person’s arm, shoulder, neck—oh. I drop my chin immediately, heart in my throat as I realize it’s Master Roarke.
My brain whirs with confusion. If Master Roarke is alive, this must be a test, right? It’s the only option that makes sense. Unless enemies tried taking over but failed? But then who is this shirtless guy talking to me? A random guest? I can’t see a random guest caring enough to check on a slave. But an enemy or a rescuer wouldn’t be friendly with Master Roarke, and he’s definitely not one of his men, so… he must be a guest, right?
My thoughts stall out when I catch sight of red blooming on Master Roarke’s white shirt. I gasp, my hand halfway reaching out in alarm. “Master, you’re hurt!”
The man who rescued me immediately turns to look at Master. I don’t risk trying to look at either of their faces, but the man’s body language is full of alarm and worry. “The fuck happened?”
“I’m fine,” Master says with an air of finality I know all too well. Then, “Eyes.”
It’s the command that lets me know he wants me to look at him. I obey immediately, a sick sort of relief unfurling in my chest. Orders are good. Orders are safe. I can’t accidentally be bad if it’s made clear how I can be good.
I look up, eyes locking with Master Roarke’s. I’m suddenly hit with the realization that I’ve never been given this particular order from him before. I’ve never been allowed to look at him so openly, always having to sneak glances whenever I thought it was safe. I feel stuck, like a needle tripping over a dip in one of my mom’s old vinyl records. His eyes are brown. Deep, dark brown.
I can’t help but think I like the other man’s eyes better.
It feels like a betrayal.
“Hello, Nolan.” The sound of my name coming from him is a shock to the system, my breath catching. Master Roarke gives me a sad smile before reaching a hand out to cup my cheek. It feels like electricity. Like praise. Like a hundred good boys altogether.
Is this it? Did I miss him killing Maison? Killing Carter?
Is he going to pick me now?
“Nolan,” he says again, and I wonder if it’s because he’s choosing me. He’s giving me my name back because I’m special now. I’m going to be his. My heart races at the possibility, but there’s a surprising layer of… fear? This is what I’ve wanted for over a year now. Why would I be afraid of it? Master starts talking again. I’m a good boy, emptying my brain and giving him all of my focus. “This is going to be hard to hear, okay? It’s going to feel unreal. It’s going to feel that way for a while, even. That’s okay. I’ll keep telling you until you believe it. Nolan, this is your last time ever being a slave. I am setting you free.”
Wait.
What?
No.
I don’t realize I said the last word out loud until he says, “Yes, Nolan. I’m sorry. I wish I could do this slower, but we’re in a time crunch tonight. Listen to me, okay? I’m undercover. I’ve always been undercover. And it’s over now. I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve let other people hurt you. I’m a fucking monster. But it’s done. No more of that. You’re safe now, Nolan. I’m going to make sure you’re safe for as long as you’ll let me. You and all your friends from my compound. Carter and his friend, Casey, too. All of you.”
I blink, feeling… numb. Can you get a concussion from a gun going off too close to your head? Can a concussion make you crazy? Am I hallucinating?
Maybe I need that medical help after all…
“I—look, I have—one second.” He digs in his pocket, wincing when the movement pulls on whatever wound is bleeding beneath his shirt. I feel numb as I watch him pull out a little gold key. His free hand reaches out and grabs the collar around my throat. I go perfectly still, my stomach souring as he brings the key forward.
Knowing he’s going to remove my collar isn’t enough to prepare me for when it happens. For when it falls off like it’s nothing. Like I haven’t had it on for years. Like I haven’t tied my entire identity, my entire fucking existence, to it. Like it means nothing to him at all.
It feels like a piece of me is missing. A piece of me that he just let fall to the floor.
“My name is Travis,” he says calmly. “I grew up in foster care. I joined the military the day I turned eighteen. A decade ago someone saw me, liked me, recruited me, and put me in charge of a ridiculously secret, not-even-the-government-can-know type of undercover operation, and I became Nathan Roarke. But I’m free tonight, Nolan. I’m Travis again. And you’re free now too. You’re Nolan again. Not a slave. Nolan.”
Stop, stop, stop saying my name.
“You’re free,” he says again. “You can be whoever you want to be. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
