The morning air was crisp, biting at Ren’s exposed skin as he stood by the idling black SUVs. Mary stood by the open trunk, having already loaded the bags she’d packed with silent, efficient precision.

Ren felt a strange, hollow weight in his chest; he was leaving the cage, but he wasn’t escaping. He was just moving to a different one—one with wings.

Cilian descended the front steps slowly. He looked every bit the powerful Alpha, his charcoal overcoat draped over his shoulders to accommodate the medical brace beneath. His gold-brown eyes scanned the perimeter before settling on Ren with a sharp, unreadable intensity.

As he reached the bottom step, Cilian didn’t head for the car. Instead, he stepped directly into Ren’s personal space, his shadow falling over him.

"Before we leave," Cilian murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to bypass Ren’s ears and go straight to his nerves. "I have a gift for you, Ren."

Ren braced himself, expecting another mocking comment about their ’honeymoon,’ but Cilian’s hand moved with surprising gentleness toward Ren’s throat. He didn’t grip the leather; his thumb found the hidden buckle of the collar.

"I don’t want to hurt your pride more than I already have while we’re abroad," Cilian whispered, his predatory eyes locking onto Ren’s. "And I don’t want the world looking at you and seeing a slave. I want them to see you."

With a soft, metallic click, the pressure that had defined Ren’s life for months simply vanished. The collar loosened and fell into Cilian’s palm, leaving Ren’s neck feeling raw, cold, and terrifyingly empty.

Ren’s hand flew to his throat, his fingers trembling as they touched the bare, sensitive skin. He felt exposed, as if the leather had been the only thing keeping his head on his shoulders.

This was the gift? But was it truly a gift if this ’freedom’ was his to begin with?

"There," Cilian said, tucking the collar into his pocket like a discarded trinket. "Now, let’s go. Our plane is waiting."

Ren nodded and followed after Cilian.

The interior of Cilian’s private jet was a sanctuary of cream leather and polished wood, and screamed of wealth. Ren sat by the window, staring out at the endless expanse of clouds, still reflexively reaching up to touch his bare neck every few minutes.

The quiet moment was broken by the cabin door sliding open. A flight attendant—a striking woman with a practiced, feline grace—entered carrying a tray. As she set a plate of steak in front of Cilian, she lingered, her gaze tracing the line of his jaw with an unmistakable, insinuating way.

She didn’t leave after serving him; she leaned in, her eyes fixed on him with a bold, inviting wink.

Ren subconsciously narrowed his eyes. A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest—not out of affection, he told himself, but because the blatant disrespect for his presence felt like an insult to the Pierce name he still carried in his blood.

Cilian, of course, missed nothing. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face as he caught Ren’s expression.

"Careful, darling," Cilian teased, his gold-brown eyes dancing with amusement as the attendant retreated. "If you keep glaring like that, people might think you’re jealous."

"I’m not jealous," Ren snapped, turning his gaze back to the clouds. "I’m annoyed by the service."

Cilian chuckled, the sound rich and infuriating.

"Don’t be jealous, darling. You know I only have eyes for you,"

Ren felt even more annoyed, but he knew refuting would only amuse Cilian more. Let him just think whatever he wants.

Then, he watched Cilian as he picked up his knife and began cutting the steak with a fluid, expert precision that made Ren’s jaw tighten.

"Look at you," Ren scowled, gesturing at the plate. "This morning, you were acting like a helpless patient who couldn’t even lift a spoon. Now you’re cutting steak like a pro with one hand?"

Cilian shrugged, his movements effortless despite the brace under his coat.

"I’m just that good with knives, Ren. It’s part of the family business, after all."

He stabbed a perfect piece of meat with the fork and held it out toward Ren’s mouth.

"Ah, Ren. Open up."

Ren hesitated, but the hunger won out over his pride. He chewed silently, the flavor of the steak as rich as the man sitting across from him. But his appetite vanished a second later as Ren finished chewing, he watched as Cilian took the same fork—the one that had just been in Ren’s mouth—and slowly slid it into his own.

It wasn’t like he used the fork to eat himself, no. There was nothing on the fork. Well, nothing but the saliva remains from Ren’s mouth.

He licked the utensil, his gaze locked onto Ren’s with a perverted, dark obsession that made the hair on Ren’s arms stand up. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Ren felt a wave of goosebumps crawl up his spine, and he shuddered. He pushed his plate away, the sudden ’intimacy’ feeling more suffocating than the collar ever had.

"You’re so weird," he mumbled, and this cracked Cilian up.

"You know I’m only weird for you, darling." But Ren couldn’t take his hands from his arms, rubbing them to get rid of the goosebumps. Cilian laughed even more and then changed the topic.

"How did it go with Dennis?" Cilian asked suddenly, his tone shifting back to business as if he hadn’t just done something incredibly disturbing. "I heard he ’broke’. Did you get what you were looking for before that happened?"

Ren’s expression darkened. He thought back to the sub-basement and the names of the ’Uncles’ that had fallen from the traitor’s lips. "He gave me two names. People I grew up trusting. They were part of the Pierce inner circle."

Ren felt a fresh crack in his heart. Even under the threat of death, Dennis had been stubborn, as if he feared the people behind those names more than losing his own life.

Ren was about to ask Cilian if he knew the men Dennis had named—to see if the Alpha would finally break his silence—when the world suddenly shook violently.

BOOM.

A deafening explosion rocked the fuselage, and the plane rattled violently, the cabin lights flickering as a high-pitched whistle signaled a breach in the back. Plates slid off the table, shattering against the floor.

Even the crate the flight attendant had been working with slid downwards as the plane tilted.

Cilian was out of his seat in a heartbeat, his playful demeanor replaced by the cold, lethal focus of a predator who knew every rule in the book on how to survive in situations like this.

He grabbed Ren, his good arm pulling him close as the floor tilted beneath them.

"The engine!" Cilian yelled over the loud rumbling.

The dream was over. The nightmare was just beginning.