Dominic's POV
I was lying in the guest room at the Ebony Pack and the cotton sheets they used actually gave me a good night's sleep. It wasn't as cozy as silk sheets, but it was safe. Every luxury my father provided was another form of control-a lesson I learned when I was ten years old, watching my mother's dreams of freedom dashed in the face of Richard Sterling's cruelty.
That night was burned into my memory with perfect clarity. The silver moonlight streaming through tall windows, Mother's normally perfect appearance disheveled as she frantically packed our belongings.
"Quickly, my love," she whispered, her hands trembling as she stuffed clothes into bags. "Take only what you can't bear to leave."
I clutched my favorite book - her gift, carefully hidden from Father who thought read
