"A dance?"
The word echoed in my head long after he'd said it, long after the room had gone quiet again. My fingers trembled as I stared at the floor, nails digging into my palms as if pain could keep me steady.
I'd been managing. Barely but I had been holding myself together these past few days while he was gone. I had learned his absence like a routine: wake up, breathe, survive. Pretend this place wasn't closing in on me inch by inch.
And now—now I had to dance for him again?
Half-naked. On display. Pressed against walls that remembered my fear better than I ever could.
Panic surged through me so fast it felt physical, like a hand closing around my throat. I pushed my chair back abruptly and stood, my movements jerky, ungraceful. One of the guards glanced at me in question.
"I'm done," I said quickly, forcing the words out before my voice could shake too badly.
He nodded, stepping aside.
