You fall to your knees in front of the full-body mirror in your bedroom, hands bound, the collar tight around your neck. You make eye contact with Mateo, who is looming over you, through the mirror. He smirks down at you. If you tell anyone about that… Your eyes drift to the hickey on your neck, to the bruise on your cheek. I’m going to deny it, amorcita. He pulls on the leash attached to the collar, forcing you to straighten up. ¿Entiendes?