No Escape

Josie

I was done.

Absolutely, thoroughly done.

Thorne's grip on my arm was bruising, like iron bands biting into my skin with each step. Every time he tugged me along through the ballroom, I felt another thread of patience, of dignity, of me, unraveling.

I could feel the eyes. Watching. Whispering. Judging.

But I didn't care.

Not anymore.

The guards followed us with robotic precision, their gazes like surveillance cameras that didn't blink. I hated them—hated how they shadowed my every movement like I was some criminal. I hated that no matter what I said, no matter what I felt, I was still being handled like I belonged to them.

He yanked harder, and I stumbled. My teeth knocked together from the sudden motion, the jolt sending a flash of anger straight to my chest.

That was it.