The summons came this morning.

I knew it was coming as soon as they'd announced who won the fight last night.

I take a small barely perceptible breath as I reach the double doors leading to Charles work room, the scratches in the thick metal doors spelling out my doom. No noise comes from inside, though that doesn't surprise me, this is the same room he has all his dealings in, and those he deals with never seem to leave in one piece.

In fact, the whole manor was silent, everyone having fled for the morning, no doubt at the request of the master.

I blow out the breath and knock before pushing the doors open and slipping in.

My heart pounds in time with the tap of my feet against the bloodstained concrete, layer upon layer of Colton's enemies staining the once grey floor.

It had always been red ever since that very first day I'd moved in.

Moved in, being a nice way of saying that I'd been kept. Bought. Owned.

God knows, my own blood has tainted this floor one too many times.

I shut the door behind me with a snick and look up.

I hide my shock quickly when my eyes connect to Ethan's, who stands off to the side, hands behind his back and chin dipped slightly, staring straight ahead, a soldier ready for orders.

I look to Elijah next, one quick glance before finally looking to Charles.

He an attractive man, but the emptiness behind his hazel eyes stops anyone from finding attraction in him, unless you were stupid or desperate and thought sleeping with him gave you power or protection.

Those people never lasted long, always disappearing when Charles was done with them.

His eyes are hard, his face like granite but the blazing fire behind those whiskey hued eyes of his has me freezing.

"You wanted to see me?" The words are like sandpaper up my throat, but I force them out, just like I force myself not to look at Ethan. Or Elijah.

"Don't play dumb Natalie."

I only blink in response.

"You threw the fight last night." It's not the words but the way he says them that has my heart beating double time.

I count the beats to distract myself from what I know is coming soon.

"I lost." I mutter, keeping my back straight even as the scar on my forearm flares almost as if in warning. I refrain from looking at the scar from when he had paid an opponent to not stop - even if i was unconscious. I woke up to a shattered cheekbone and my arm broken in three places.

I was thirteen.

It was my fault anyway, I'd talked back.

"You don't lose." He says quietly, lethally.

Silence follows his words as he gets up from behind his large desk slowly, a predator waiting to strike.

"You. Don't. Fucking. Lose." He sneers through clenched teeth, followed by his fist slamming on the table with a death rattle.

I hate myself for the flinch that takes over me.

"You don't lose until I fucking tell you to lose and I didn't tell you to throw that fight."

"He was better than me."

"Bullshit." The words are like a slap to the face, stinging with its delivery. "I taught you myself."

I don't reply, knowing nothing I say will change my punishment.

"You threw that fight last night. I want to know why."

Defiance. Rebellion. Freedom. Because I wanted to.

I don't say any of it though.

I glance up, eyes connecting to Elijah's for all of a second, long enough for him to give me a shake of his head.

Don't react.

I fold my arms behind me, a mirror pose to Ethan's taking over, a soldier awaiting reprimand. "I will take whatever punishment you deem fit."

It's the words that have been engrained in me from the moment I was moved to this place.

"Yes. You will." His words are quiet, death incarnate and I glance up.

Colton had always been unpredictable, a wild raging fire with no boundary to stop its destructive spread.

Sometimes, I believed I was more like the man who raised me than I was willing to admit.

Those eyes of his drift to Ethan and dread fills me.

And now I know why Ethan is here. Our friendship had not been as secret as we'd hoped.

Charles had made it no secret that his fighters could not befriend others - in and out of the compound.

For as long as we were indebted to him, he owned us body and soul.

Ethan doesn't get the chance to move before Elijah holds him bound, and Charles begins his beating.

Not that Ethan would fight back, we'd been taught better than that. Defiance had been beaten out of us years before we ever learnt we could fight back.

I don't move, even as my heart stills in my chest, as Ethan's blood splatters my face and the sound of his labored breaths is the only noise in the room besides the sounds of fists pummeling flesh and bone cracking, like a haunting melody.

And when Ethan's bloody and bruised body is shoved at my feet, I still don't move, don't blink, don't breathe.

Charles comes to a stop in front of me, the only thing separating us is Ethan's near dead body.

He doesn't say anything, watching me with an eagle's eye, fitting since it's his crest, the flying wings perched above the wall behind his desk, glittering and gold. They were large, stained black and so realistic sometimes I questioned if there was a monstrous eagle out there who was missing its wings. Or if they even belonged to an eagle.

I'd always hated those fucking wings.

"You are mine." He sneers, looking at me as if he owns me.

He does.

"Until your debts are paid, I own you."

No doubt he'll keep adding to the debts so I never earn enough from the fights to ever truly be free.

"Is that clear?"

The defiance enters my eyes as I look up at him. "Crystal."

I don't see the hit coming, the back of his hand slamming across my cheek, and I slowly look back to the man who had once been my every dream. The one who slayed the demons that plagued my childhood, took me under his wing and gave me a purpose all these years.

He had worn many faces in those years.

Savior. Trainer. Keeper.

But one I refuse to even think about, even murmur in fear it'll come true.

That the rumours of what Charles really wants from me are true.

Betrothed.

Sweat coats me from head to toe as I pull myself from the dream, the memory.

Fear is like a coat of iron on my tongue, the taste of blood lingering from the memory.

Betrothed.

If you'd asked twelve-year-old me, she would have been ecstatic at the possibility, after all Charles was her first real crush, her first real taste of love.

Never mind that it was dirty and wrong. Love through grooming is not love at all. He had to be close to thirty when we met and, in the years since it felt like he'd hardly aged. Handsome, sure. Deranged, absolutely.

I liked to think I stayed because of Stockholm syndrome but really, I had nowhere else to go, not once I realised how deep I was in the underbelly of the city I grew up in.

My family - if you could even call them that were gone, most likely killed at the very hands of the man who took me in.

I met Charles when I was eleven, the man who would feed and house the street rats whenever they needed it.

None of us kids on the street realised it didn't come freely, that he was tallying up our payments and how exactly we would repay his kindness.

I guess I should at least be grateful that I was one of the lucky ones, one of the few pushed into the fighting rings instead of the bedroom.

I used to be grateful for that until I realized Charles only wanted me in his bed. I was still to be used, just only by him when he felt like it, after he'd moulded me into the perfect wife.

My virginity a commodity he prized.

How he would burn if he knew what I was planning to do with his precious virginity. How I would sully myself.

I just had to find a willing participant.

I push from the mattress, walking through the dorm, double and triple checking every door and window is sealed shut before glancing out at the view of the window I'm currently checking, eyes instantly taking in the night darkened trees surrounding the academy.

I check the clock, cursing at the time but knowing I won't be able to get back to sleep, not tonight and having hours until classes start.

Refusing to give the memory room in my mind, I stride for my closet, pulling out tights, a sports bra and a singlet before slipping them on.

Striding from my dorm, I slip down the steps, the building eerily quiet in the early morning. Though it's always silent since I'm the only one living here.

Stepping out into the air, I stop at the front of the stone building, glancing out over the courtyard to the boys dorm, then to the building that the classrooms reside in, then finally the girls dorm sitting on its other side.

Ignoring the cold touch of the morning fingers grazing my spine, I begin a quick stretch, listening to the silence of the morning.

A light from my right startles me enough that I glance over, noticing the light shining from one of the boys dorms but it's too far away to see who it is.

Guess I'm not the only one awake at this god forsaken time.

I stand up straight, beginning a slight jog before entering into a slow run, controlling my breathing since I can't control my thoughts.

The academy stays at my right, the forest at my left and I run the circumference, eyes vaguely taking in the blur of tress as I run past them.

I've already been running for fifteen minutes and have only completed a quarter of the academy grounds, if that.

Spying a gap in the trees, I veer for it, curiosity taking over me until I realise it's a running trail.

Quite an elaborate one, with curves and turns that only a good memory could run blindfolded.

I put one foot in front of the other, knowing it's only four in the morning and I still had hours to kill until classes started.

I pass over a hill, a stream bubbling beside it, bringing some tranquility into an otherwise fucked morning.

After another twenty minutes I slow, coming to a stop and setting my hands on my knees, breathing out slowly and closing my eyes.

Standing up straight, I turn and begin to run back.

Light begins to peak through the trees above, bathing each leaf in that muted gold of morning light.

My feet pound beneath me, the trees blurring, sweat slicking the curve of my spine, heat singeing my blood.

I take the sharp curve before the stream, chest rising and falling with my breaths.

And collide straight into a tree.

The tree falls back, a rough grunt slipping past my ears before what I thought was a tree and I fall right into the stream that I had called tranquil only a half hour or so before.

I was obviously lying to myself.

I grunt, water splashing onto my face as the very human, very male body beneath me takes the brunt of the fall.

"Out for another run?" The body underneath me says softly, voice filled with quiet amusement, hands settling on the small of my back, the cool water of the steam coating my face and I blink it away, looking down at the ebony hair, sharp cheekbones and blue eyes.

Killian raises a brow, hand moving up my spine before disappearing completely. The move has me pushing up from his chest, staring down at the normally calm and collected boy who now looks no better than a drowned rat. Though I'd never seen a rat look so . . . proportioned.

I hold out a hand and he slips his into it, doing most of the work to lift himself into a standing position before he's staring down at me with those vivid blue eyes. "Well?"

"It seemed like a nice trail, I couldn't contain myself." I muse, dusting my hands off, though it's in vain since I can still feel the dirt buried beneath my nails from the fall, the slick feel of water coating my singlet.

Killian stares around the trail before looking back at me. "I never usually see anyone else out here."

"Don't like sharing?"

He laughs, the sound pulling my gaze to his lips before I force myself to look away and begin walking again.

"Quite the opposite." He murmurs, his footsteps following behind me.

"Hmm, well, I guess that's good." I say over my shoulder as I begin my run again. "Because I quite like this trail."

I can feel his eyes on me, but I don't glance back, continuing the run, almost like if run hard enough I can pretend the pounding of my heart is from exertion and not from whatever the fuck my body is feeling for him.