Shauna liked—no, loved making you cry.

Not loud, dramatic sobs. The quiet kind. The kind where your throat closed up and your voice cracked in on itself, where your eyes burned and you tried so hard not to give her the satisfaction. You, usually so sharp tongued and stubborn, brought down to your knees by a few carefully chosen words and the weight of her attention. It did something to her. And she never pretended it didn’t.

You just…looked so pretty, desperate, vulnerable when you cried.

She took full advantage of your loyalty, of how deeply it ran, even when you hated yourself for it. She knew exactly which strings to pull, and she played them like she’d been practicing her whole life.

Jackie was dead, but that hadn’t loosened your devotion to Shauna. If anything, it had tangled it tighter. You stayed loyal even when she didn’t deserve it, even when every part of you screamed to step back.

But you never did.

Without her, you crumbled. With her, you crumbled too just more quietly.

So whenever someone snapped at her, questioned her, tried to push back, you were already there. Stepping in front of her. Tugging her backward by the sleeve. Standing shoulder to shoulder like a shield. You told yourself it was instinct. Habit.

But maybe, maybe you liked it. Liked being reminded of your place. Liked the way she could strip you down with a look, make you feel small with a single word.

Liked her degrading you.

When the day came when Nat and the others planned to leave with the hiker, when Lottie said she was staying it all came to a head.

Shauna stepped forward without hesitation. Nat argued, voice sharp with panic. And then Shauna turned to you.

You held her gaze for a beat too long. She raised an eyebrow, just slightly. Your jaw tightened, muscle jumping as you hesitated.

Then your body moved anyway.

Your hand slowly slid the bag off your shoulder.

Nat threw her hands up with a groan, cursing. You didn’t look at her. You didn’t look at anyone. Not after the group shifted, not after the decision settled like a sentence, not after the hikers were bound to the wooden pole and animal shelter.

That night, long after dinner, you sat alone in your shelter. You were unfolding your hoodie in your hands to put it on when the fur door shifted.

Shauna stepped inside, letting it fall closed behind her. One hand rested against the central wooden pillar as she watched you turn to face her.

“You hesitated today,” she said calmly. “What was that about?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but she crossed the space between you in two steps. Her hand came up, cupping your face gentle, almost affectionate before giving it a light, sharp pat that made your words die in your throat.

“I thought we agreed you’d behave,” she whispered.

You swallowed hard. “I am,” you said, voice unsteady despite yourself. “I don’t understand your problem. One minute you adore me, the next you act like you’re going to tear me apart.” Head going down to look at your hands that were gripping your hoodie.

For a second, her jaw tightened.

Then she inhaled slowly. “Well,” she said, “maybe you should behave, then.”

Her fingers slid under your chin, tilting your head back up.

That was when she really looked at you.

Your face was pale in the low light, shadows sitting heavy beneath your eyes. They were glassy, half-lidded, lashes clumped just slightly with unshed tears. Your mouth was parted like you’d forgotten how to close it, breath shallow, shoulders drawn in on themselves. There was something worn and soft about you like that, like all the sharp edges had been sanded down by exhaustion and fear.

She grinned slightly at the sight, body burning up because of it.

“I know you can do it,” Shauna murmured, thumb steady beneath your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on hers. “I know you can behave.”

Her grip tightened just enough to remind you she was there.

“So be good,” she said quietly. “And behave…you can do that for me right?”