SET ME FREE

“Are you sure your dad will be okay with me joining Christmas this year?” Izabella asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Silvia groaned, rolling her eyes as she shoved her phone into her coat pocket. “Ella, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s fine. My dad won’t even notice. We don’t have… a thing, okay? Almost the whole pack ends up celebrating with us anyway. He’s always busy.” She muttered the last part under her breath, but Izabella still heard it. Izabella didn’t argue. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go—she just wasn’t used to spending the holiday anywhere except her family home. As the youngest of three girls, she’d always been the spoiled one, wrapped in warmth, noise, and traditions. Christmas with her parents and her two older sisters had been her entire life. But this year was different. Her sisters were spending the holiday with their mates, and her parents needed their own time together. So Izabella had announced she’d be spending Christmas break with her best friend… and with the father she’d never met. All she knew about Sebastian Gill, Alpha of the pack and Silvia’s father, was that he was a young single dad—practically a kid himself when Silvia was born. Silvia once told her that her mother had never wanted a child, and Sebastian had simply taken his daughter into his arms and never let go. It had been the two of them against the world ever since. What Izabella didn’t appreciate was her own father sending a message ahead, asking the Alpha to “take care of his little girl” and offering the loyalty of their pack as gratitude. She’d been mortified; her father had been delighted. He loved his daughters so fiercely that even her mother sometimes complained they’d stolen her mate. She was still caught in that swirl of thoughts when Silvia snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Ella. We’re here.” Izabella blinked, the world rushing back into focus. Ella blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting as the car rolled to a slow stop. First she saw the gates—towering black iron bars so tall they seemed to cut into the sky. Then the rest of the estate rose behind them, and the word palace didn’t even begin to describe it. The place was massive, ancient-looking but modernized, wrapped in stone walls and warm golden lights. Snow dusted the roofs like powdered sugar. The entire front entrance gleamed with holiday lanterns, wreaths, ribbons, and enchanted lights drifting like fireflies. Ella stared, her mouth parting in open wonder. “Pretty dramatic, right?” Silvia said, nudging her with a grin. “We do Christmas big in this pack.” But Ella barely heard her. Her eyes traced the structure, the arched windows, the banners fluttering with the crest of Gill’s pack. It was beautiful, yes—but also imposing. And then she noticed something else, something that made her brows knit together. Every ten meters, without fail, stood a guard. Uniformed, armed, and very much alert. Ella swallowed. “Um… Silvia… are you sure we’re visiting a home and not a military base?” Silvia snorted. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. It’s normal.” “Normal for a Knight fortress maybe.” But Silvia waved her off. “Dad is Alpha. This place is always protected. It’s not a big deal.” Maybe not to Silvia—who grew up here—but Ella couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Observed. Assessed. When they stepped through the entrance, however, her breath caught again for a completely different reason. The inside was… magical. Christmas exploded across every surface: draped garlands, glittering ornaments, dozens of glowing trees, enchanted snow drifting from the ceiling but disappearing before it touched anything. The scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air. Soft music drifted through the grand hall. Ella felt like she walked straight into a fairy-tale—one where the palace could swallow her whole if she wandered too far. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “This is… insane.” Silvia grinned proudly. “Welcome to home.” They moved toward a long table where glasses of wine sparkled like rubies. Ella reached for one— —only for Silvia to slap her hand. “Ow!” Ella hissed. “What the hell?” “You’re not allowed yet!” Ella glared. “Why the f**k am I not allowed? I’m twenty-one, Sil. I can drink, I can smoke, I can get f****d—I can definitely enjoy a glass of wine.” Silvia’s eyes widened, and she quickly pressed a hand over Ella’s mouth. “Shh! Don’t say ‘get f****d’ in the entrance hall!” Ella laughed through Silvia’s palm. “It’s Christmas. Let me live.” Before Silvia could respond, a guard approached silently, carrying their bags as though they weighed nothing. He didn’t smile. None of them ever did. “Thank you,” Silvia said, reaching for her suitcase—only to be intercepted. Because suddenly, several pack women spotted her. “Silvia! You’re home!” “Oh, sweetheart, look how grown you are!” “Your hair is longer—you look beautiful!” Ella took a step back as Silvia was immediately swallowed by a group of excited women. Silvia protested half-heartedly, but they didn’t care. She had been gone for years at college, and they had apparently waited all that time just to pull her back into the chaos of pack life. Ella waved her off. “Go! Go! They’ll eat me alive next if you don’t.” “I’ll take you to your room—” “No, seriously, go. I’ll find it. It’s almost night anyway.” Silvia, dragged along by happy hands, shouted over her shoulder, “Your room is next to mine! End of the corridor to the right!” “Yeah, yeah, go!” Ella yelled back. And once Silvia disappeared into the cluster of pack women… Ella grabbed the wine glass. And downed it in one shot. One of the nearby guards raised an eyebrow at her. Just one eyebrow. His face didn’t move otherwise. Ella held up the empty glass. “What? I needed that.” He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. Did these guards even blink? She grabbed another glass—slowly, careful not to alert Silvia from a distance this time—and began making her way up the wide staircase. Each step felt warmer, heavier. The wine was hitting hard and fast, stronger than anything she’d ever tasted. “Holy s**t,” she muttered as she reached the top. “Did they spike this with magic?” The hallway upstairs was quiet. Too quiet. No guards in sight, which somehow made it feel even more unnerving. She wasn’t sure if that was comforting or creepy. “End of the corridor… to the right…” she repeated. But there were several doors on the right. And without guards she couldn’t ask for help. So she chose the last one—because obviously her room would be at the very end. She turned the handle. The door swung open. And Ella froze. Her breath left her chest in one sharp sound. Her eyes widened. Her fingers slipped on the glass, almost dropping it. “What…” she whispered. Her gaze darted across the room—large, shadowed, and unmistakably occupied. Her mouth fell open. “What the actual fuck.” It wasn’t a bedroom. It was a red room—the kind Ella had only ever seen in movies or whispered about in late-night conversations. Deep crimson walls. Soft amber lighting. A bed draped in scarlet silk that looked sinfully soft. And lining the walls… tools. Toys. Restraints. Chains. Implements she had only read about in books she never admitted to owning. A slow, stunned breath left her chest. This can’t be real. She stepped inside before her brain made a decision, her body moving on its own. Behind her, the door clicked shut—quiet, but final. Ella swallowed, her pulse thundering in her ears. She lifted her wine glass and took a massive gulp, letting the burn steady her. Except it didn’t steady her at all. If anything, it made her bolder. Warmer. Reckless. Her eyes roamed greedily over the room. Over the polished chains hanging from the wall. Over the leather whips and beautifully cruel tools displayed like art pieces. The sight alone sent a tremor down her spine—equal parts shock and fascination. She’d never been this close to anything like it. Never touched. Never tasted. Never dared. Her gaze drifted to the bedside table… And the sight of the sleek black vibrator resting innocently beside the blood-red sheets made something tighten low in her belly. “Oh, s**t…” she whispered. Heat coiled through her—real, demanding heat. She hadn’t touched herself in over two weeks. Hadn’t been laid in more than a month. Exams, stress, travel—she had barely even had the time to feel her own body. But the wine… the room… the atmosphere… It all cracked something open inside her. A pulse beat between her thighs, sharp and sudden, dragging a quiet, needy ache along with it. Calm down, she told herself. Just breathe. It’s not even your room. She should leave. She knew she should leave. But the bed… that perfect, silky red bed… called to her like a promise she’d been starving for. Before she could overthink it, she crossed the room and sank onto the mattress. “Oh my god…” The words fell out on a sigh. It was softer than anything she’d ever felt—like sinking into a heated cloud. Images flashed through her mind, unbidden. What it would feel like to be pinned to a bed like this. Held down. Used. Claimed. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily, a helpless whimper catching in her throat. She opened her eyes—and froze. On the pillow beside her lay a gag. A real one. Smooth, black, perfectly rounded. Not a prop. Not a joke. The kind used by people who knew exactly what they were doing. Her breath hitched. Don’t even think about it. She thought about it. And then she reached for it. The gag felt heavier than she expected when she turned it over in her hands, studying it. Testing the strap. Feeling the shape. Wine blurred her hesitation, replacing it with something reckless and warm. Before she realized it, she pressed it to her lips. And then into her mouth. It wasn’t too big—but it filled her, silencing her thoughts as effectively as her voice. A strange, helpless thrill shot through her, straight to the place already aching. She lay back again, the red silk cool under her spine, her mind swimming. That was when she noticed the cuffs. Thick. Leather. Attached to the headboard. Her breath stuttered. Her hands lifted instinctively—curiosity overriding sense. She slid her wrists into one… then the other… Just to see how it feels. The alcohol blurred the rest. The click of the lock barely registered. By the time she realized what she had done, both her wrists were secured—snug, unyielding leather holding her in place, arms stretched above her head on the sinful red bed of a stranger. She tugged. Once. Twice. Harder. The cuffs didn’t budge. And panic finally slid into her bones. She was gagged. Cuffed. Sinking into silk sheets meant for a very specific type of night— —in the house of her best friend. “Oh,” she moaned behind the gag, eyes wide. “Just… f*****g perfect.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *