Collar of Betrayal

Jackson Dalton, my roommate, was a deeply disturbed voyeur. His greatest hobby in life was spying on me.

Back in school, he stole my underwear. After we started working, he set his sights on sleeping with the woman I loved, Caitlin Watson.

Because we were close, he constantly crossed the line, making crude, sexual remarks about Caitlin, who was a flight attendant.

"Those legs are insane. Wonder what it’d feel like to have them on my shoulders."

Every time he ran his mouth, Caitlin would throw water in his face and curse him out. "Stay the hell away from me, you freak."

For my sake, she never called the police on him, but every time he acted up, she made sure to humiliate him in public.

The night I successfully proposed, I bought a new house.

Jackson showed up with a full set of appliances as an apology gift.

Wearing her diamond ring, Caitlin leaned into my arms, smiling like she was the happiest woman alive.

All my friends said I was lucky to have such a beautiful and loyal fiancee, who even put my worst friend in his place.

Until I got up in the middle of the night for a drink. I noticed the guest room door was slightly open.

When I pushed it open, I saw Caitlin wearing a collar and being led on a leash while crawling on the ground.

In that moment, it felt like the blood vessels in my brain were about to explode.

I froze where I stood. The glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor, shards scattering everywhere.

Caitlin Watson flinched like a startled cat and whipped her head around.

The sultry look on her face hadn’t fully faded. Around her neck, a black leather collar gleamed under the light.

A dog’s collar.

Half-naked, Jackson Dalton sat sprawled arrogantly across the expensive leather sofa I had just bought, the leash clenched in his hand. When he saw me, he didn’t panic. Instead, he broke into a wide grin.

"Hey, hey, Cameron Pruitt’s finally awake! Want to join us?"

He yanked the leash hard. Caitlin stumbled forward, forced along, her knees scraping audibly against the wooden floor.

My stomach churned violently. "Caitlin, what are you doing? You’re my fiancee! We’re getting married next month!"

She snapped out of it, but not in the way I expected.

There was no shame on her face. Instead, she frowned, irritation flashing in her eyes as she stood up, casually dusting off her knees.

She didn’t even take off the collar. She just reached up to smooth her messy hair.

"Cameron, why are you yelling in the middle of the night? Can’t you see we’re playing a stress-relief game? Stop making a big deal out of nothing."

A stress-relief game?

Throwing your dignity under someone’s feet, crawling on the ground like a dog—that was a game?

I rushed forward and grabbed her wrist, trying to rip that disgusting collar off her neck.

"Have you