The Dominic gardens simmered under the late afternoon sun, golden light pooling across marble and roses. This place was never meant to be gentle, not for her. She was never allowed to walk these grounds freely. She was supposed to stay where he put her. In his chamber. Within his reach. Where he could watch her breathe. Where she belonged.
Yet here she was.
Gabrielle walked barefoot along the garden path, the wind playing with her loosened hair, lavender brushing her fingertips as though welcoming her. She looked as though she had never known fear at all, as if years of confinement meant nothing.
No guards blocking her way.
No tremble in her steps.
No eyes searching for permission.
Zander stood on the balcony above, watching. She disobeyed him, openly, beautifully, softly, like rebel
