Chapter 9
Back in the study. The fire was roaring, but Harper couldn't get warm.
She stood on the Persian rug, dripping muddy water onto the expensive wool.
Finn sat opposite her. He held the black ring.
"Left hand," he ordered.
Harper hesitated.
"Do you want me to call the hospital and cancel the surgery?"
Harper thrust her hand out.
He snapped the ring around her wrist. It clicked shut with a sound of finality. It was heavy. Cold. It fit tightly against the bone.
"Titanium alloy," Finn said, admiring his handiwork. "GPS tracking. Heart rate monitor. If you leave the perimeter of the estate without my code, it alerts the police. If you try to cut it off, it alerts the police."
Harper tugged at it. It was unyielding.
"It's a shackle," she said.
"It's a reminder," he corrected. "The human body has 206 bones. This is your 207th bone. It's part of you now. It's the part that belongs to me."
Harper stared at the red light blinking on her wrist. It synced with her pulse. Blink. Blink. Blink.
"You're sick," she said.
"I'm pragmatic." He spun his chair around. "Go shower. You smell like a wet dog. There's a bathroom through there. You sleep in here tonight."
"On the floor?"
"Unless you prefer the kennel."
Harper walked into the bathroom. It was larger than her entire apartment in Queens. She stripped off her wet clothes. Her body was covered in bruises from the escape attempt. Her shoulder ached.
She stepped into the shower. The hot water hit her, stinging her cuts.
Harper scrubbed her skin until it was raw, trying to wash off the feeling of his eyes on her. She looked at the black ring.
She tried to squeeze her hand through it. She tried to dislocate her thumb. But the ring was designed perfectly. It sat right on the styloid process of the ulna. It wasn't coming off.
Harper leaned her forehead against the tiles and cried. Silent, hot tears that mixed with the shower water.
She wasn't Phoenix anymore. She wasn't Harper the mechanic.
She was property.
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