The rest of the conversation blurred. Klaus’s voice was velvet. His smile was poison. Chloe heard him, but her brain refused to process most of it. Like her mind was protecting her from the words. Only three things cut through and stuck. *One: The threat.* He slid a photo across the table. Chester. Tied to a chair. Blood on his temple. A hand splayed on wood. A cleaver hovering. _“Three hours, Mrs. Reigns. Or we start with fingers.”_ *Two: The instructions.* _“You’ll report to me. Everything. Where Liam goes. Who he meets. What he says when he thinks no one’s listening. Twice a day. No exceptions.”_ *Three: The unspeakable.* She couldn’t even say it in her head. Spying on Liam Reigns. _Liam._ The man who’d bought her, caged her, looked at her like she was dirt under his shoe. It was suicid
