The revelation wasn't earth-shattering, I had figured out as much. Q and his frustrating tipsy comments. "Give me something I don't know. I'm number fifty-eight. That means he's had fifty-seven before. That makes him a dealer in women." I couldn't stand it. The thought of Q having so many women made me want to kick and punch and scream. Now I was gone, there would be more. Undoubtedly. "But I know he did it for the right reasons. He helped them... didn't he?" I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't, not for that.

Franco grabbed my bicep, jerking me to the side, away from prying ears. He muttered, "Yes, Mr. Mercer has had fifty-seven slaves. Twelve of those were when he was sixteen. He buys women, accepts them as bribes, but never lays a finger on them." He sighed, "Q rehabilitates broken women, and returns them to their loved ones. He dedicates his money, staff, and home to helping women who've been shattered beyond repair. With some sort of Mercer superglue, he manages to put them together again."

Truth rang sweet. I finally knew.

After two months of living with an unreadable master, I knew the man behind the mask. Suzette hinted all along-the sparrows and birds screamed messages in my face. They symbolized women Q had saved. My eyes widened, finally understanding his tattoo. The black storm and brambles represented the horridness of the world-or him. The birds flapping free were girls he rescued. He wore it as a talisman. A badge of honour.

If I didn't hate him, I'd love him for that.

I softened, accepting why Q threw me out. He had to protect future women. He couldn't have me ruining his life because he dedicated his time to saving others. I hated that I understood. I would've done the same thing.

My heart wrung dry and I accepted there was no going back. Franco would never betray Q. I had to know one thing, though.

I looked up. "Why me? When he didn't touch anyone else? Why did he try to break me if he fixes broken things?"

Franco looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "He didn't want to break you. He-" Lips snapped shut, and shame shadowed his face. "This isn't for me talk about."

I grabbed his arm, squeezing hard muscle. "Please, Franco. Tell me. I need to know. I can't deal with anymore. I thought Q cared for me. I care for him, and I made the biggest mistake of my life running and calling Brax." Tears welled and spilled. "If I could take it all back, I would. You owe me the truth."

Franco patted my hand over his. "I know, Ms. Snow, but it doesn't change the fact that for the first time, Q responded to a slave the way a normal master would. He saw your fight and loved you weren't broken. He wasn't trying to break you by doing what he did." He dropped his voice so I could barely hear. "He was hoping you could break him."

Blood rushed into my ears. The songs about needing to fight and claim. I wanted to slap myself for not seeing. Q needed someone who matched his darkness, waged the same war between pleasure and pain.

We were so similar, yet he never let me get close to show him. I ruined it. The police gave an ultimatum, and Q had no choice but to accept.

Swallowing hard, Franco added, "Q deals with a lot. I hoped he finally found the one person who could help him. But then you ran, and it's come to an end."

Franco dropped his arms, stepping back, withdrawing in one swift move. "I'm sorry for what you dealt with in Mexico, and what Lefebvre did to you, but it's time for you to forget about Mr. Mercer, and go back to your boyfriend."

The mention of Brax shot a poker through my heart. What a terrible girlfriend I turned out to be. If Q wanted me, I would never have left. I would've let Brax fumble without me, stomping on my promise that I would never leave. Will I ever live with myself?

Franco pushed me toward the taxi stands. Rows of cars waited, bright under glaring lights.

Shoving something into my hands, he said, "This is for your troubles. Goodbye, Ms. Snow."

I wanted to scream as Franco strode away and disappeared. I hated my last name. I missed esclave. I missed what the word meant: belonging. Not just to Q, but an entire different existence.

I didn't know how long I stood on the footpath, clutching the envelope Franco gave, but eventually I had no choice but to move. Move forward. Try and forget.

In a daze, I shuffled to the taxi stand.

A driver quirked a bushy, black eyebrow. "No luggage, little lady?"

I blinked. The moment I got in the car, my life would suck me along, and I would never be able to stop it. I would become Tessie again. Fierce Tess would be no more. Q would be no more.

Q was wrong about one thing. Something about me was broken: my heart.

Shaking my head, I mumbled, "No, no luggage."

Get through today, then think about tomorrow. One baby step at a time.

Sliding into the plastic wrapped interior, I gave him my address. Our address. Me and Brax.

I was going home.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Bell Bird *

I didn't have a key.

Running fingers along the top of the doorframe, I found the spare. Our apartment resided on the bottom floor of a building of eight units. A one bedroom, chilly box, with no sun or views, but we decorated with bright fabrics and Brax's DIY projects.

Dammit, fit.

The key wouldn't slide into the lock because I shook so much.

I was home. The place where I'd been happy, but clueless as to who I was. Walking through the door meant so much more than just returning. By doing this, I let Q win. I let him disown me.

I hunched, holding my stomach, trying to gather strength. My eyes rested on Brax's steel-capped boots on the door mat, and my heart hung heavy in my chest.

You can't ever let Brax see you like this, Tess... Tessie. This pain is private.

I straightened, sucking in gulps of air. Brax expected a relieved and distraught girlfriend, not a woman vibrating with need for another. Not a woman craving a whip and violence.

I undid the lock and stepped over the threshold.

Fear hit first.

Fear of sameness-the overwhelming homeliness created by Tessie and Brax. It reached like eager claws ready to suck me unwillingly into the past.

My feet stuck to the floor, locking in place, battling an unbearable need to run. The longer I stood trembling with fear, the more confused I was. My mind struggled with two sets of memories: Tessie and Tess. Brax and Q. Australia and France. They wouldn't mesh and in my swirling confusion, the apartment worked a terrible magic. Soothing my terror, making it feel as if I never left.

Q? Who was that? A figment of my imagination.

Mexico? As if, Brax would never travel so far from home.

In a blink, the last two and a half months faded from reality to dream. I grasped at tendrils, forcing myself not to forget. I could never forget. No matter how painful, I wanted to wear the memories like armour, so I never grew weak again.

I inched forward, hands curled. Daisy curtains were drawn haphazardly, just like Brax did every time. A dirty plate languished in the sink in our tiny cream kitchen, and his red tool bag blocked the corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.

No lights were on, only shadows. I tiptoed through my own home, feeling like an intruder. I didn't belong. I never belonged.

A bang came from the bedroom.

I crouched, ready to sprint, instincts on high alert.

Claws clacked on floorboards and a loud bark hurt the silence. Blizzard charged from the bedroom. The husky bounded over the tool bag and crashed against my legs.

The moment his hot, doggy body touched mine, I folded to the floor. I never liked Blizzard, but he signified Brax completely. Eager, happy, loyal to the end.

Dog breath made my nose wrinkle as he slobbered, tail wagging so hard his butt wiggled. "Calm down, Blizzard. I don't need drowning in kisses."

He whimpered as I pushed him away, needing some air. Forcing his massive body onto my lap, he licked with his road-rash tongue. Giving in, I pressed my face into his ruff. "You missed me, huh? You better not have chewed my handbags while I've been gone."

Blizzard yipped.

A loud thud and a muffled curse came from the bedroom.

I froze. Blizzard sensed my mood and clambered off, darting down the corridor to where his master appeared.

My heart churned. Master. Blizzard was owned. I no longer was.

Brax stumbled as Blizzard careened into him, then looked up.

Our eyes locked-sky-blue to grey-blue. I was so used to pale green, I flinched.

Brax's jaw hung open and tension erupted.

My insides rippled with complex bewilderment. Old Tess would've flown down the corridor and into Brax's arms, slamming us to the floor. She would've burst into tears and kissed him all over. So, so happy to be back with someone who cared enough to share their life with her.

New Tess waged World War Ten in her heart. Q still held me captive, even though I tried to shrug off his conditioning. Q didn't consider how distraught and lonely I would be. He proved he wasn't a good master. Everyone knows, after captivity, a pet doesn't survive in the wild. He should be punished.

You don't belong to him. Not any longer. But how was I supposed to live after Q? I knew what true belonging meant. It hadn't been ethical or normal, but I'd been treasured and priceless. I didn't just want to belong. I wanted to be ruled. And Brax would never rule me. He couldn't.

Brax shuffled forward, pushing the damn dog out of the way. "Is this real?" His deep voice, full of sleep, rasped with remembrance. Brax. Sweet, comforting Brax. He'd been all alone. Probably suffering ten times what I did.

"Brax." I stepped forward.

Our eyes never left and he moved. "Tessie? My God, Tess."

Then, we were running. We slammed together, wrapping tight arms, squeezing until breathless. Brax rained me in kisses while his bed-warm body, in only singlet and boxers, scalded me with grief.

My heart split into fragments. Q's voice filled me head. "Smell so good. So fucking good. Like rain... no, no like frost. Sharp and fresh and icy and cold and... and painful." He closed his eyes, voice trailing into a whisper. "You love c-causing pain."

Pain.

It would become a familiar passenger in my heart. Q caused immeasurable agony. I wouldn't survive it. You will survive it.

Brax stopped kissing my hair, gathering me in a bone-crunching hug. "Oh, my God, Tess. Tessie? It's really you. Oh, my God." His familiar apple scent and size all overwhelmed, and I did the one thing I swore not to do.

I broke.

Tears waterfalled and I sobbed. Sobbed for my past with this man. The knowledge I had changed completely, and could never go back. I would always live with Q in my heart; there was no longer room for Brax. But I had to pretend. This moment marked the day I locked away my wants and needs, ready to act my ass off. Tessie would be reborn through determination and lies.

Brax pulled back, tears tracking his face. He planted a wet kiss on my lips; I forced myself not to recoil. He's gone through hell thinking you were dead. Kiss him. Show him you still love him.

I opened my mouth, expecting a violent tongue, so conditioned to savagery, but Brax kissed sweetly, delicately, so different to Q. So different to what I needed.

He pulled away, grabbing my hands. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" His eyes flew over me in panic. My grey dress was rumpled and creased, but it looked expensive. It should-it was Prada.

Brax frowned when he noticed the envelope in my grip. I still hadn't had the balls to open it.

Hurt? Yes, in so many ways, but my wounds weren't visible. I shook my head. "I'm fine."

He scowled. "What happened?" He spun me around, running hands down my body. "Are you sure? How did you get here? Did you escape? Maybe we should go to a hospital?"

I laughed softly as his fingers tickled, then winced as he caught residue pain from my rib. "I'm fine. Honest. I just need to go to bed and get some rest. It's been a really long day." Longest day of my life.

Brax wrapped arms around me; together we walked into the dark bedroom. Our queen-sized bed waited, and the cover I made from material scraps depicting the Eifel Tower, cackled with mockery.

I slammed to a halt. Why, why, why?

The French romantic symbolism stabbed me over and over; I couldn't take it. I stalked forward, grabbed the edge, and threw it into the corner of the room. I couldn't sleep beneath a symbol of the country where my ex-master lived. I hoped to God he suffered as much as me. Dammit, I wanted his cold heart ripped out-like mine was. You better be howling in agony, you bastard.

I vibrated with anger, and jumped a mile when Brax touched my shoulders. "Tessie... it's okay. I don't know what happened, but we'll get you help. Okay?" He tugged me toward the bed and helped me undress.

I wallowed in thoughts, memories, wishing I could reboot my brain and forget. Forget everything.

Dressed only in the silky slip from beneath the dress, we climbed into bed. The whiff of detergent and fabric softener settled my raging heart, reminding me I used to find peace here. I could find it again, if I tried.

Brax immediately brought my head to lie on his chest. It was a usual position for us and I listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady, it lulled me into blessed numbness.

Sleep stole my world.

"Esclave, what do you think you're doing?"

I froze, looking up at my master. Q stood proud and hard by the side of my bed. He stroked his rigid cock, lips parted with lust as eyes sparked with desire.

"Making myself come thinking of you fucking me, matre."

He stroked harder. A bead of pre-cum glistened. I couldn't stop myself. I shot upright and sucked him. Q groaned, fisting my hair as I lapped and licked and lavished.

"Fuck, esclave. Your mouth is my entire world. I want to fuck you all day, every day. I can't think straight not fucking you. I want to tie you up and never let you go." His voice ran endlessly as he thrust into my mouth, nudging the back of my throat with force.

I moaned, slinking fingers between my legs, stroking delicious wetness.

"Stop touching yourself, Tess. That's mine. All mine." He pushed me backward, straddling me. In one quick move, he flipped me onto my knees and spanked me so hard my skin screamed with pleasure-pain.