A Branding Iron

Nora's POV

Footsteps crunched on gravel outside the kennel. I shoved my phone under the thin blanket with trembling hands, my heart hammering against my ribs as the lock rattled.

The door swung open, and Callum stood silhouetted against the night sky, his silver eyes catching moonlight like a predator's. Behind him, Reid waited with something that glinted in his hands—metal, long-handled, with a flat end that glowed faintly red even in the darkness.

"Come out, Nora," Callum said softly. "We have unfinished business."

I pressed myself against the back wall, my body shaking. "What is that?"

"A branding iron." He stepped inside, and the confined space suddenly felt suffocating. "A dog needs her master's Owen, doesn't she? Something permanent to remind her who she belongs to."

The words didn't register immediately. When they did, horror flooded through me so violently I thought I might vomit. "No—"

"Yes." Callum crouched down, reaching for me with patient inevitability. "You tried to call for help. You think I don't monitor your phone? Every text, every call, every desperate attempt to escape—I see it all, Nora. And now you'll learn what happens to dogs who bite the hand that feeds them."

I tried to scramble away, but he caught my wrist, his grip iron-hard as he dragged me out of the kennel into the cold night air. I fought—kicked, twisted, screamed—but Reid was there immediately, pinning my arms while Callum tore open my dress with clinical efficiency.

The fabric ripped, buttons scattering across gravel, and then Callum's fingers were on my shoulder, pushing the torn material aside to expose bare Mercer.

"Hold her still," Callum instructed Reid, taking the branding iron. The heated metal cast an orange glow across his face, making his expression look demonic. "This will only take a moment."

The iron descended toward my shoulder, and I could feel the heat radiating from it, smell the acrid scent of burning metal. My entire body locked in terror, every muscle screaming—

And then survival instinct overrode fear.

I wrenched one arm free from Reid's grip and lunged, not away but toward Callum, my fingers closing around the branding iron's handle. The heat seared my palm, but I held on, twisting it away from my shoulder with desperate strength.

Callum's eyes widened in surprise as I yanked the iron from his grasp and pressed the glowing end against his throat, just below his jaw. The smell of singed fabric filled the air as his collar began to smoke.

"Let me go," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "Or I'll burn through your throat."

For one frozen moment, nobody moved. Reid's hands loosened on my arms, uncertainty flickering across his face as he looked to Callum for instruction. But Callum just stared at me, something almost like admiration mixing with the fury in his silver eyes.

"You won't," he said quietly.

"Try me." I pressed the iron harder, and Callum's jaw tightened as the heat penetrated closer to Mercer. "Tell Reid to back off. Tell him to open the gates. Now."

Callum's gaze held mine for another endless second. Then he nodded once, sharply. "Reid. Do it."

Reid released me completely, stepping back with his hands raised. I kept the branding iron pressed against Callum's throat as I stood, my torn dress hanging off one shoulder, my burned palm screaming in pain.

"Walk," I ordered, using Callum's body as a shield as I moved toward the driveway. "Slowly."

We made our way down the gravel path, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. The gates loomed ahead, and through them I could see headlights—a car waiting just beyond the property line.

Dani. She'd come.

"Open them," I said to Reid, who'd followed at a careful distance.

The gates swung open with a mechanical hum. Dani's car idled just beyond, and I could see her silhouette in the driver's seat, her face pale with shock as she took in the scene—me in a torn dress, holding a glowing branding iron to a man's throat.

"Nora!" Dani threw open her door. "Oh my God—"

"Stay in the car!" I backed toward it, dragging Callum with me. When I reached the passenger side, I shoved him away hard and threw the branding iron at his feet, then dove into the seat.

"Drive! Now!"

Dani floored it, tires squealing as we shot away from Lores Manor. I twisted in my seat, watching through the rear window as Callum stood in the middle of the driveway, Reid beside him, both of them growing smaller as distance opened between us.

Callum didn't chase. He just watched, his hand touching his throat where the iron had been, and even from this distance I could see the cold fury in his posture.

"Nora, what the hell happened?" Dani's voice was high and tight with panic. "You texted me an address and said you needed help, and then I show up and you're—you're holding someone hostage with a—was that a branding iron?"

I couldn't answer. My burned palm throbbed, my shoulder ached where Callum had tried to Owen me, and my entire body was shaking so violently my teeth chattered. The adrenaline that had carried me through the escape was draining away, leaving only shock and terror.

"Nora." Dani reached over, squeezing my uninjured hand. "Talk to me. Who was that man? What were you doing at that place?"

"I can't—" My voice broke. "Dani, please, I just—I need to see Owen."

"Owen?" Dani's confusion was palpable. "Your ex-fiancé Owen? Nora, you two broke up months ago—"

"I know, but I need to see him. Please." Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and uncontrollable. "Just take me to his apartment. Please."

Dani's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She made a sharp turn, heading toward Owen's building in the city center. Her phone rang, the sound shrill in the enclosed space, and she glanced at the screen with a curse.

"It's the hospital," she said. "Nora, I have to take this call—"

"It's fine." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to pull myself together. "Drop me at Owen's. I'll be okay."

Dani pulled over in front of Owen's building. "Are you sure? Because Nora, you look—"

"I'm sure." I opened the door, my movements stiff and mechanical. "Thank you for coming. For rescuing me."

"Call me later," Dani said urgently. "Please. I need to know you're safe."

I nodded and stepped out onto the sidewalk, my torn dress barely held together by the remaining buttons. Dani's car pulled away, and I stood alone in the November cold, staring up at the familiar building where Owen lived.

The lobby was empty except for the night doorman, who did a double-take at my appearance but said nothing as I made my way to the elevator. My reflection in the mirrored walls was a stranger—wild-eyed, disheveled, with a burn Owen already blistering on my palm and my dress torn open to reveal my bra.

I looked like a victim. I looked like exactly what I was.

The elevator doors opened on Owen's floor, and I forced myself to walk down the carpeted hallway toward his apartment. Each step felt heavier than the last, my body protesting the continued movement after everything it had endured tonight.

I rounded the corner toward Owen's door and stopped dead.

Owen stood in front of his apartment, but he wasn't alone. A woman in a striking red dress was pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, and they were kissing with the easy intimacy of people who'd done this many times before.