His eyes move over me, and I can see the war in them. I want him to change his mind. I want him to tell me that he trusts me, that he believes me. But he doesn’t.

“I don’t negotiate with emotional terrorists,” he answers. “Now come.”

I follow him from the bed because I have no choice. He has a hold on the other end of the chain-link leash attached to my collar, and fighting him at this point will only result in more pain for me.

I try to remember why I’m doing this. It’s impossible to forget his threat against Solana and Georgie. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept when he stops and points at the floor.

“Kneel.”

I meet his gaze, steeling mine as I slowly drop to the floor and do his bidding.

“Good,” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on my head. “That’s good, little monster.”

For a moment, I can’t help closing my eyes and allowing myself to feel the warmth of his touch. It’s the comfort I need, even if it’s from the same man who’s making me suffer. But all too soon, it’s gone again.

“Now crawl.” He gives the leash a gentle tug, and I lurch forward with no choice but to follow his command.

I’m not sure what to expect or what he’s going to make me do, but when he opens the bedroom door, and I see Miriam standing there, I really just want to die. He nods at her, and her eyes sparkle with satisfaction when she sees that I’ve been quite literally brought to my knees before her.

I want to spit at her. I want to fucking scream. But I keep repeating the mantra in my head. Georgie and Solana. I’m doing this for them.

“You’re going to spend some time in Miriam’s shoes today,” Judge informs me as he leads me down the hall with the bitch at my heels. “Perhaps it will make you learn to respect what she does for you.”

My anger feels like a hot poker in my chest, stabbing me over and over again as I crawl along the floor like a dog without an ounce of dignity left. I don’t have to look at Miriam to know how much she’s enjoying this. I can feel her gaze boring into the back of my skull.

Judge leads me into my bedroom, and then to the adjoining bathroom. He nods to Miriam again, and she steps around me, staring down at me like I’m the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She produces a raggedy-looking toothbrush and a pair of gloves, which she reluctantly hands over. Judge’s doing, I’m guessing. I’m sure if it were up to her, she’d probably make me lick the floor clean.