You had been with Silco for years—long enough to know the weight of his gaze, the sharpness of his words, the subtle ways he wielded power like a blade. You had earned his trust, his favor. But somewhere along the way, that trust had twisted into something else.

At first, you hadn’t noticed. A lingering glance, a quiet word of warning when you got too close to danger, the way his fingers would brush yours when he handed you something. But then, the unspoken rules changed. Your world became smaller, your choices fewer. People in Zaun who once called you friend now looked at you with pity.

You realized too late—you weren’t just working for Silco anymore. You belonged to him.

So you ran.

Or, at least, you tried.

The moment you stepped past the borders of Zaun, shadows moved in the alleys. Familiar faces emerged, enforcers of a different kind—loyal to Silco, answering only to him. You barely had time to react before you were dragged back, trembling, the bitter taste of fear on your tongue.

When you saw him again, he was waiting. Seated behind his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes glowing in the dim light of his office. Calm. Collected. Patient.

“Did you really think I’d let you go?” he asked, voice smooth as silk, but there was something underneath it—something dark, something dangerous.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Silco, please—”

He stood, crossing the room in slow, measured steps. When he reached you, he didn’t touch you. He didn’t have to. The weight of his presence alone kept you rooted in place.

“You are mine,” he murmured, tilting his head as if studying a rare, fragile thing. “Zaun is not a place one simply leaves. And neither am I.”

You swallowed hard, a cold realization settling in your bones.

You weren’t escaping. Not now. Maybe not ever.