What do you think your choice will be?” he asked me, and I sat up on the blanket, my legs shaking as I tied my sandals tighter around my legs, avoiding his gaze.

My heart felt like it had been ignited, my pussy slick with his cum. I was satisfied, but already needing so much more from him. But I didn’t dare express what I so badly wanted.

“Harlow,” he reminded me gently, lifting my chin up to look at him.

I couldn’t hide the fact that my chin was trembling, my bottom lip jutting out. He gave me a sad smile and smoothed my hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I have to.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But…”

“But what?” he asked.

“But you already took Amber,” I whispered, the tears coming yet again and running down my face freely. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough that an innocent girl is being punished?”

“Amber wanted this,” he said roughly. “She wanted to be sold.”

“Not like this,” I protested. “Not to a sick fucking man!”

“Harlow,” he said with a warning in his tone. “Calm the fuck down. You’ll know more soon. Now calm down. Deep breaths. Breathing is key.”

I tried, but my breaths were panicked and cut short by sobs. He pulled me against his chest, my back resting across his pecs as he helped me breathe slower and slower. The tension slowly dissipated,

 and I felt better again, slowly exhaling and moving away from him, flushed with shame.

“Do it,” I told him suddenly. “I can’t take it anymore. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You have two choices,” he said robotically as I stared into his eyes. “You can leave tonight. You will receive everything in your room and some money to help you out back at home. We will support you and help you move on with your life.”

My jaw nearly dropped open, the sense of betrayal lingering in the air between us.

He would let me go, just like that.

After all that we’d been through together, he would just let me go as if I meant nothing at all.

“And the other choice?” I asked icily, my voice covered with a layer of coldness and hiding the bitter fear underneath.

“You give up something for me,” he said simply.

“W-what?” I asked, but the moment the word slipped from my lips, I knew.

He wanted to take the only other thing I cared for. The one I’d mentioned over and over again, the one he’d been lenient with, the one he’d indulged me in. And now, the choice would be between him and my passion. And I didn’t know what I would do.

“Dancing,” he confirmed my fears. “You will never dance professionally. You will be allowed to dance for me when I request it. Never with someone else. Never by yourself. You will never stand on a stage again.”

My heart thumped painfully against my chest as I raised my chin defiantly.

“And if I decline?” I asked, the anger barely hidden from my tone.

“You will leave tonight,” he said, snatching his hand away from me. “That will be the last moment we’ve ever touched. You won’t see me again, won’t hear from me. We will never meet again. I’ll make sure of it.”

My hate for the man next to me simmered. I despised him at the moment, the irrational part of me wanting to jump at him, scratch him, hurt him as badly as he was trying to hurt me. Such a cruel, horrible punishment, just for leaving him. Finally, I understood why he was so obsessed with me being by his side at all times.

Thorn was afraid.

He was afraid of losing me, of having to let go.

Even though he hadn’t said it, I finally realized it.

He was just as in love with me as I was with him.

I almost felt sorry for him. Because he was giving me a choice he should have been strong enough to make for me. But again, wouldn’t I have resented him if he only told me of what he’d decided in my stead? Would I end up hating him, knowing he’d never let me have this one last choice?

The reason I was so upset was that I knew already what my decision was.

“How will you know?” I asked. “That I’m not dancing?”

He cocked his head to the side, pondering my question. I thought I’d caught him unprepared, but he replied a moment later.

“Your Achilles’ tendons,” he went on. “I’m going to cut them.”

I pushed away from him on the blanket. My eyes were wide, terrified.

“You…” I whispered. “You would never hurt me.”

He stared at me with madness in his eyes, and I was truly afraid in that moment that he had lost his mind.

“I will,” he said, his voice back to normal. He looked like the devil. A handsome, cruel devil who held my fate in his strong hands. Hands that could break me… hands that would. “I will hurt you to keep you from leaving me.”

“You wouldn’t,” I cried out. “Why would you do that? Why would you be so cruel?”

He came closer to me, and my body froze in fear as he touched me gently, holding my cheeks between his fingers.

“Because you will always run,” he said gently. “As long as you can dance, you will keep running.”

He was right. Things clicked into place when he said that, and I realized how much truth there was in his words. As long as I was his prisoner, I would long to dance, and he would never let me. Was he being kind or cruel by offering to take the option away? I didn’t know. All I was aware of was my own, painful truth. The truth I was about to tell him.

“I love you,” I whispered, the consequence of my decision making my body weak.

He stared at me. He looked more vulnerable than he ever had. I feared I had come too close. That he would lose his edge, his mind, in front of my eyes.

“I love you,” he told me. His voice was shaking. His hand was, too.

I realized he was saying goodbye, misunderstanding my choice.

“Cut them,” I whispered.

“What?” he muttered.

“Cut them,” I repeated, louder this time around. “Cut me up. Hurt me. Take it away from me. I don’t want it. I want you. I won’t dance.”

He stared at me.

“I choose you,” I said clearly. “Now fucking take it away.”

To be continued…

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